Fallen Star
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: All Loki wants is revenge-the Cube may be his key. But when he hides his identity to get info from Jane Foster, something inside him shifts. And when the Cube is stolen, Loki must choose between vengeance, and the woman he fears he can never have.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, everyone! I dearly hope you enjoy this story, as so many others have! PLEASE check out the trailer on youtube. You can find it by typing "Fallen Star Loki."_

_Thank you, and have fun!_

_VVVV_

Fallen Star

"Into the blue  
And faded world of my daydreams  
I feel I'm falling deeper everyday  
Melting away down a dark and endless abyss  
I'm grasping at straws and I'm chasing the wind  
As I fall on my face over and over again…"

-Into the Blue, Sara Jackson Holman

CHAPTER ONE

Loki's eyes snapped open. He sucked in a gasping breath—it tore through his chest. His vision would not focus, no matter how hard he blinked. Blurred, dark shapes punctuated by brilliant dots passed over him in a blur. Panic grabbed him. He took another breath. It snagged.

He exhaled a sharp cry of pain. His voice sounded like a slap—raw and close in the silence. He ground his teeth as needles of pain danced across the ribs of the right side of his chest and back. He screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take quick, shallow breaths, even as faintness threatened to take him.

Sensation began working its way down through his limbs again, like water through frozen pipes. There—he could feel his arms, now his fingers. They clawed downward into dusty sand. His legs lay crooked, a large stone between his feet. His green cape draped halfway across him, like a blanket haphazardly thrown over a prisoner. He opened his eyes again.

His vision cleared. Black sky replaced the dark blur. And stars—sharp points of white—replaced the flickering lights.

Loki frowned hard, his brow twisting, as he stared upward. The sky looked wrong; it looked—

Another wave of throbbing washed through him, and his hands came up without his consent to press against his chest. Again, he made his throat unlock, he closed his eyes, and forced his mind and breathing to calm so he could retrace what had just happened.

He had fought with his brother. His brother Thor, the master of thunder. They had clashed on the bridge leading to the gate—Thor had broken the bridge with his awesome hammer, severing the lethal hold the Bifrost had on Jotunheim, the realm of the Frost Giants. The severance had caused a colossal explosion that had nearly ripped all of them to shreds. Both he and Thor had tumbled helplessly over the edge. Loki had caught hold of the All Father's staff—Thor had grabbed the other end. And, at the last instant, Thor's feet had been snatched by Odin.

And as they hung there, dangling over the abyss and the pulling tide of the receding wormhole, Loki had looked up into the eye of the one he had called "Father" all his life. He had expected to see rage, condemnation, displeasure in that limitless blue gaze.

But instead, all he had seen was disappointment.

It shook him to the core—and before he knew he was drawing a breath, he had cried upward in a voice like a little boy.

"I could have done it, Father!" he had shouted, almost pleading, as his hand slipped on the staff. "I could have done it! For _you!" _His voice had caught. "For all of us!"

Odin had paused. And then, he shook his head once.

"No, Loki," he had whispered.

The word had broken him more completely than one of Thor's hammerfells.

And so he let go.

As he tumbled down, yanked toward the wormhole with mighty force, he heard Thor roar a heartbroken denial. And then the whirling blue chaos swallowed Loki.

The throb of his broken soul was instantly overpowered by the frantic need to survive. He had no weapons, and as he fell he tumbled and whirled and spun through the blazing white fire and penetrating dark, so dizzy and sick he could not right himself.

And so he reached down, down into the place within him that no one of his family or friends could ever understand—that place where he held the secrets of his intuition—the treasure store of his magic.

He wrenched that inner power loose and wielded it before him as a sword. Instantly, the chaos of the wormhole transformed into a logic puzzle—a slowly spinning tunnel of doors and gates—and the answers to the riddles opened up before him. He steadied, and slowed, and stood upright. He could not stop his descent. But he could change his direction.

He knew he could not keep plunging down as he had been—for down that path lay Jotunheim, a vast, freezing wreckage of a place now, filled with his enemies. And he could not head for the realms to his left, for he did not have the strength. His only hope was to try for one of the nearby doors. And so, using all his willpower, he had twisted and shoved off, and dove through the closest gate.

After that, he had suddenly lost control. The path was dissolving—perhaps due to the shattering of the Asgard gate. He pitched sideways, and lost his balance, then plummeted, having no idea whether or not he was heading the right direction.

Then, he had been enveloped by fire and heat, and a crushing pressure—

And the ground had come up to strike him like Thor's fist. Dirt had rippled like the surface of a pond—then heaved like the swells of the ocean.

And now he lay there in silence, wracked with agony, staring up at foreign constellations, and blinking away cold tears that ran down his temples.

His brother.

His father.

No.

He had tried to deny it—had tried so vehemently to prove himself worthy of both of them, to show that he was not a monster like those Giants, those who shared his blood. To prove that he could rule Asgard both wisely and swiftly, dealing out justice with vigor and cunning, with no loss of Asgardian blood.

And what had they done in response, this brother, this father?

To Thor, Loki had become an enemy. And to Odin, he had become a disgrace.

And now, bereft of everything he had once loved—for such things had proved only to be hollow dreams—hatred burned in his heart, and water scalded his eyes, casting a fog over the strange constellations—the stars that Loki knew hung over the realm he scorned most: Midgard. Or, to use its other name—the one the little primitive natives called Earth.

LLL

"Darcy! Darcy, Darcy, quick!"

"What, what? I was almost asleep…" Darcy groaned. Jane Foster grabbed her arm and dragged the drowsy girl off her chair and across the diner-turned-lab and practically flung her at a large computer screen. Jane swept her own long brown hair out of her face with her graceful fingers as her chocolate eyes lit up in the screen's glow.

"Look at that! It happened again!"

"What did?" Darcy frowned, squinting.

"The same anomaly—the same tornado-like storm that brought Thor!" Jane cried. "And it was right there—it's almost exactly in the same place!"

Jane tried to calm her racing heartbeat, but it was impossible. She had almost been nodding off over a stack of star charts a few minutes ago—now her entire being lit up. She straightened, spun around, and snatched her blue jacket off the back of her chair.

"Where are you going?" Darcy demanded, almost fully awake now.

"To go find him!" Jane shot back, picking up her purse from her desk and throwing the strap over her shoulder.

"It's the middle of the night," Darcy pointed out.

"Yeah?" Jane said distractedly as she fished for her van keys.

"It might not be him," Darcy said.

"Yes, but it _might _be," Jane looked up and gave her a brilliant grin.

"Erik isn't here," Darcy said sternly. "He's on his way to talk to SHIELD—and you're not supposed to go anywhere without him—"

"Darcy," Jane stopped, and looked at the other woman squarely. "I am _not _going to just sit here. He promised he'd come back—I'm going to go pick him up so he doesn't have to walk in the dark." She turned on her heel and started toward the door.

"Jane, the dude can _fly," _Darcy tried. But Jane wasn't listening. Darcy threw back her head and groaned. "_Fine_, I'll come with you…"

TBC

_Please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you, lovely reviewers! You really do inspire me to keep going! Thank you, and enjoy!_

_VVVVVVVVVV_

CHAPTER TWO

Cold desert wind blustered through Loki's black hair and tattered cape as he trudged through the empty hills, toward the pale light of the moon. Tall, sharp plants clawed at the hem of his cape and the legs of his dark pants. Something felt wet on the right side of his face, and his head thudded dully, but as it was nothing compared to his back and chest, he hardly noticed. He kept his left arm wrapped tight around his middle—something felt loose inside him, and if he let go, delirious pain would drive him to his knees.

It had taken a great effort for him to get up and out of the broad, jagged crater he had created—he had fallen down more than once, cursed his ancestors and dented his breastplate, getting covered in dirt. He rolled his eyes now as he thought of it—it was a wonder that Midgard had not shattered to pieces this past week, what with all the foreigners slamming into her soil like apples dumped from a cart.

He paused to regain his breath, swallowing once, then again, and closing his eyes. The aloof wind whistled around him, like suspicious wolves surveying a stranger.

Loki had never broken a bone before, so he could not be sure—but he could imagine this was what it felt like. He had gone cold all over, and nauseated. He knew he ought to keep moving or he would risk collapse. But his legs suddenly seemed so heavy…

A light glimmered against his eyelids. He blinked, opened his eyes again, then squinted toward the source.

Two bouncing beams made their way across the desert, followed by a dark cloud of dust, and a chaotic but mechanical rumble. He frowned, stretching back through his hazy memory…

It was a human vehicle. A rather large one.

And it was heading toward him.

His thoughts lurched for a moment as he tried to decide whether or not this was fortune or doom. On one hand, the little natives might prod and poke him, imprison him or torture him—or worse, attempt to study him. On the other hand, he was in so much pain he could neither summon his magic to shield him nor make it do his will against them. He was lost, he was faint, and he did not know what creatures or pitfalls might await him out in this barren land. If nothing else, the mortals could restore his sense of direction, his knowledge of his position on the planet—perhaps even give him something to ease this agony.

It was this last thought that finally won out. He swallowed hard again, then started toward the vehicle's lamps. There was nothing for it but to let himself be seen.

The beams turned right toward him. Their light blinded him to everything else. And it was only after the vehicle was too close that Loki realized he could not move fast enough to escape if it did not decide to stop.

LLL

"Watch _out!" _Darcy shrieked. Jane slammed both feet down on the brake pedal, her heart almost leaping out of her chest. The van screeched to a halt, sending dirt flying toward the dark, pale-faced figure right in front of them.

"You can't be looking at a GPS and driving at the same time!" Darcy scolded, shoving herself away from the dashboard where she had been flung. "You are _going _to kill somebody someday, Jane Foster."

Jane barely heard her. Her white knuckled hands clenched the steering wheel as she stared over it, through the windshield, at the person she had almost hit.

He stood slightly sideways, his shoulders at a strained angle. He held his left arm tight around his chest, his right arm hung limp. He wore knee-high leather boots, dark pants and a long tunic, which was covered by golden, light, high-collared armor that protected his chest and arms. A dark green cape flowed down from his shoulders and dragged on the ground behind him.

His face was too white—angular and solemn. He had raven hair, strands of which hung across his pale brow. Beneath black, hawk-like eyebrows, striking eyes met hers—eyes like a gray dawn, alive but distant. He had a noble nose, cheekbones and chin, and a firm, quiet mouth. He watched her unblinkingly, as if he were waiting. The whole of him was covered in dust—and blood coated the right side of his face.

"Darcy, get the first aid kit," Jane gasped, clawing at her seatbelt to get it to release. Once it did, she sprang out of the car and slammed the door shut, then hurried toward the stranger.

He turned toward her as she approached, and blinked slowly. Jane fought to catch a glimpse of his pupils, to see if they were dilated unevenly. She could not tell. Instinctively, her hands darted out toward him, but she pulled them back.

"Are you all right?" she asked—then wanted to slap herself. "I'm sorry—stupid question." She shook her head, then searched his face. "What happened to you?"

He blinked at her again, and his brow furrowed slightly.

"I have seen you before," he said. His voice was lighter than Thor's or Erik's—more even and smooth, with perfect articulation. Jane started.

"You…You have?" She glanced him up and down, again taking in the sight of his armor and cape. Her heart leaped. "Are you…Are you from Asgard?"

He straightened, and drew in a breath. His vivid eyes flashed across her features, as if pieces were clicking together inside his mind. He blinked, and his brow cleared, as if he had decided something. Then, he lowered his head, but never broke her gaze.

"Yes."

"You are?" Jane cried, unable to suppress a startled smile. "So you know about Thor! Thor and Odin and the Destroyer and…What is your name?"

The stranger swallowed, and squeezed his eyes shut, as if a headache hurt him.

"Fenris. Fenris Aeridson."

"Do you know Thor?" Jane pressed. "What happened to him? Is he all right?"

"Jane, the man is bleeding," Darcy said flatly from over by the van. A smile quirked across Fenris' lips. Jane's heart plunged.

"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry," she apologized. "If you get in the van we can take you to the hospital—" Jane reached out and did take hold of his metal-covered arm this time. He pulled out of her grasp. Jane went cold.

"Thank you, but no." Fenris opened his eyes and gave her a stern but hazy look. "I would prefer that your medical monkeys keep their prodding fingers off of my decidedly un-human body."

Jane frowned, offended, but then he stumbled backward.

"_Jane_…" Darcy warned. Jane stepped toward him, afraid to grab him again, yet afraid he might lose his balance.

"Jane, he's gonna fall—" Darcy yelped. Fenris' face twisted, then his eyes went blank and he stiffly collapsed. His body thudded heavily to the dirt.

"_Crap, _crap, crap," Jane hissed, rushing toward him and kneeling down. "Darcy, he's probably got a concussion…"

"How do you know?" Darcy muttered as she came up. "He's got an alien scull."

"Whatever it is, it isn't good," Jane snapped, the wind blowing her hair into her face. "Help me get him into the van."

"You know, this is all seeming oddly familiar…" Darcy grumbled, but she took hold of his feet while Jane lifted up his shoulders, and together they struggled to carry him to the van.

LLL

Loki came to slowly, and when he did he was aware of a bumping, rocking movement all around him, and boxes bearing blinking colored lights on his left and right sides. He was lying on his back, on a metal floor, staring up at a dark ceiling. And he was moving. _They_ were moving.

He heard their voices—those of the two mortal women who had found him. And even as he laid there, his side fairly splitting open, he could not believe the hand Fate had dealt.

He knew her as soon as the beams of light cut across her slight figure. Her long, windblown dark hair, comely face, and startled brown eyes—he had watched her every movement from his throne in Asgard, through the eyes of the Destroyer, a thoughtful finger draped across his lips. He had seen the way she and Thor had looked at each other in the midst of the breaking and burning. He had known it was she that had made Thor weak.

Jane. That was her name.

And she already knew about Asgard, and Odin, and the bridge—for she had doubtlessly followed the passage he had just made—and she was clearly in love with Thor. But she had never seen Loki—she only knew of him.

Which meant Loki was not about to be handed over to the authorities, nor jabbed by medieval doctors, nor interrogated by their lawmen as Thor had been. Not while Jane wanted answers concerning Thor and Asgard. So Loki would hide behind an alias, and milk that advantage for all it was worth.

LLL

Jane opened the back of the van to see Fenris sitting up, his jaw set. He looked irritated.

"How are you feeling?" Jane asked.

"I can't say that was enjoyable," he answered, laboriously scooting himself forward with his left hand so his feet dangled out and then rested on the ground. "And I believe my brains have been rattled to pieces, thank you."

A retort sprang to Jane's lips, but then Fenris reached up and swiped at his forehead—and then stared at his bloody hand.

"Good heavens," he muttered, making a face.

"We need to get you inside," Jane urged. "Here, let me help you." She bravely took hold of his stiff arm once more and pulled him up. He didn't say anything to consent, but he didn't pull away either. His face had gone tight, and his footsteps were unsteady.

"Darcy, get his other side, would you?" Jane called.

"Kay," Darcy acknowledged, then took hold of Fenris' left arm. Together, they guided him to their glass-walled lab and managed to trundle him through the side door. Absently, Jane mused that Fenris was not as tall as Thor, nor as grand—but then she supposed that not everyone in Asgard could be born with his natural majesty. After all, Thor was a prince.

The shadow and twinkling lights of the state-of-the-art lab made Jane blink trying to adjust her eyes as their footsteps shuffled hollowly across the tile.

"Darcy, go flip the lights on, will you?" Jane panted, steering Fenris toward the counter and sink. He leaned his hands against the edge of the white countertop, and Jane was about to protest about his getting blood all over, but he hung his head low and closed his eyes. She bit her lip, opened a low cupboard and pulled out several soft washcloths. Then, she turned on the water. It hissed into the sink. Fenris' eyes came open, and he frowned down at the tumbling liquid.

The stark fluorescent overhead lights snapped on—Jane glanced over at Darcy, who stayed safely by the light switch at the far end of the lab, watching the stranger.

Jane leaned around his arm, soaked the washcloth in warm water and squeezed it out, then brought it, dripping, up to the side of his head.

"People's heads always bleed so much," she muttered as she pressed the cloth to his forehead and began wiping away blood. "Sometimes the littlest cut can bleed like crazy."

"That's entirely untrue of Asgardians," Fenris replied, pulling the cloth out of her hands and pressing it to his head himself.

"Oh," Jane stammered, thrown. Deftly, he swiped the blood off his face, leaned down and rinsed the rag out in the water, then continued washing, like a cat bathing its face. Jane pulled back from him, a frown settling on her face. Whatever this Fenris was, he was not at all like Thor.

"How did you hurt yourself?" Jane finally asked.

"Fell from the Asbru—the bridge," he answered, water dripping off his nose and lips. He soaked the rag again, squeezed it out, then pressed it to his temple. "During the fight between Thor and his brother, Loki."

Jane's heart jolted.

"Fight? Thor fought him? What happened?" she demanded, pressing closer. She sensed Darcy draw a little nearer too, but Jane's eyes were fixed on Fenris' face. He didn't look at her.

"Loki was attempting to unleash the power of the Bifrost upon Asgard's longtime enemies, the Frost Giants. Thor arrived and decided he would not let his brother succeed." Fenris wiped the excess water from his face, put the rag down and began feeling through his black hair for his wound. "But the gate had locked, so there was nothing for Thor to do but break the bridge with his hammer. Which is what he did. But it—_ssssssaaah!_" Fenris dropped his right arm and pulled it close to his chest, wincing, his face going even whiter.

"What?" Jane said quickly. "Are you hurt someplace else?"

"I am fine. Where may I sit down?" he asked through his teeth.

"Here," Jane leaped across to her desk and swung her wheeled chair around for him. Fenris eased down into it and swallowed hard, his eyes drifting shut.

"What then?" Jane asked, leaning closer.

"Jane, don't you think he should rest for a sec?" Darcy wondered, stepping closer, studying his face.

"I am fine," Fenris repeated, his eyes opening to glare at Darcy. "The bridge broke," he went on. "And it caused a tremendous explosion. I was one of the guards on the bridge—the blast threw me off, and I fell down into the funnel of the path. And I landed here, in the middle of nowhere." His eyes closed again, and his brow furrowed in what looked like anger. Jane stood there, feeling cold.

"So…the bridge broke."

"Yes," Fenris answered, still not looking at her. Jane gulped, her throat hurting with the movement.

"So…Can Thor…I mean, can he come back?" Her voice trailed off into faintness. Fenris' eyes opened and he arched an eyebrow at her.

"As it stands? No. Not unless he knows another way to travel between realms. Which…he doesn't."

Jane stood there, her brow twisting, staring at this stranger, unable to move. She felt Darcy's eyes on her, but she dared not meet them.

"If it's not too much to ask," Fenris sighed darkly. "Is it possible that there is anything with which to kill pain on this rock? Or must I shoot myself to get a little relief?"

"So sorry," Jane said breathlessly, stumbling across the room again to another cupboard. "I think I have some migraine Tylenol…" Her fumbling hands found the latch of the cabinet and she pulled the door open, though it was hard to search the labels on the bottles when tears clouded her vision.

TBC

_Please, please review, dear readers, so I can find the momentum to continue!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you, dear ones! So sorry for the little delay—I went on vacation. :D Anyway, I'm back now, and I hope you keep enjoying, and leaving great reviews!_

_VVVVVVV_

CHAPTER THREE

Loki sat back in a plush, L-shaped white couch that fit into the corner of the lab. He winced as he lifted first his left foot, then his right, and propped them up on the short table in front of him. He already felt the pain killer—odd little colored beans he had swallowed with water—begin to numb his headache, but the throbbing tension in his side did not ease. He was not about to make mention of it, however. These women clearly were not medically-minded, nor very well equipped. Besides, he hated being touched.

Jane sat across from him on her armless desk chair, one leg tucked up underneath her, her delicate hands folded in her lap. She stared down at the small table where Loki's feet rested, her eyes distant. Darcy stood even further away, near a large computer screen, arms crossed, biting her lip and watching him. Loki's mouth tightened.

"You seem disappointed."

Jane started, and her dark eyes flicked up to his. Loki's jaw clenched involuntarily, for the effort of speech had sent raw pain down his side, but he betrayed nothing on his face. Jane's mouth worked for a moment, then she gave a nervous smile, glanced down and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"No, I, um…I was just expecting someone else. When I saw that phenomenon in the desert again."

"The Midgard bridge," Loki corrected. She glanced at him and nodded, then resumed her distant stare. Loki did not relent.

"You were looking for Prince Thor."

Now he had both women's attention. Loki cocked his head at Jane.

"You expected him to return here so soon?" He shot a quick glance at Darcy before turning back to Jane. "Well, that seems unrealistic, don't you think? Even if the bridge hadn't broken—his banishment had just ended. He would want to see his family."

"He was banished?" Jane's gaze sharpened. "Why?"

Loki did not answer right away, gauging whether or not he should reply—but then the glass door at the far end opened and an older man strode in, his head down, his brow furrowed. He unzipped his gray jacket and scratched his head.

"Well, Jane, I'm supposed to meet Nick Fury tomorrow in the middle of the night. He wants to debrief me so I can debrief you, and then he says he found something…" The man trailed off and his footsteps slowed as his head came up, and his solemn gray eyes found Loki. Loki looked right back at him, but said nothing.

"Jane," the man said, and Loki detected a faint accent in his deep tones. "Who is this?"

Jane got up and faced him, her frame going stiff.

"Erik, we—We detected another anomaly—another tornado bridge like Thor used to go back and forth from Asgard. So I—_we," _she gestured to Darcy. "Went out to look for him. For Thor. Only it wasn't Thor, it was Fenris." Jane glanced back at him. "He was a guard on the…the Something Bridge when Thor fought Loki—"

"Loki?" Erik cut her off. "The Norse god of mischief?"

Loki's mouth quirked a little and he glanced down to hide his amusement. Based on the few occasions the Midgardians had encountered him, he knew why they would come to this conclusion about his character. He was rarely in an equable mood when he visited.

"I suppose so," Jane shrugged. "And Thor broke the bridge, to save the Frost Giants, which caused a huge explosion and knocked Fenris off the bridge. He fell here, and hit his head, so we—"

"Almost ran over him with the van," Darcy concluded. Jane sent her a burying look.

"What?" Darcy protested. "It's true."

Erik turned on Jane.

"You went after another one of these anomalies without me? Didn't I tell you not to go out into that desert without at least _telling _me what was going on?"

"I'm sorry, Erik, but this was too important—I knew you were in an important meeting and I couldn't wait," Jane insisted. "I had to see if it—"

"If it was Thor," Erik finished, heaving a sigh and shaking his head and frowning. But he stepped toward Loki and put his hands in his pockets, piercing eyes on him. Loki still did not break eye contact—but it was getting harder to conceal the thud of pain in his side.

"So, you're Fenris," Erik said slowly. "You're from Asgard, too?"

"I am," Loki replied.

"It's fairly raining Asgardians of late," Erik glanced up before returning his scrutiny to Loki. "You fell off the bridge?"

Loki suddenly didn't like Erik's tone. He lowered his head and darkened his gaze.

"I did," he answered.

"Hm." Erik's mouth tightened, and he nodded once. He glanced at Jane. "Have you taken him to a hospital? It looks like his head is still bleeding."

Loki swallowed, restraining himself from reaching up to feel his hair again. Moving either arm would make him double over.

"We can't take him to a hospital," Darcy reminded Erik. "He might have two hearts or something."

Loki rolled his eyes but held his tongue.

"Good point," Erik agreed, his head lowered again in thought. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and glanced at his watch. "It is now three in the morning. Jane," he turned to her. "What are you planning on doing with him?"

Loki frowned. Jane's eyebrows shot up.

"Doing with him? I…Well, I'm not going to throw him out, if that's what you mean."

"It's not what I meant," Erik said, watching Loki out of the corner of his eye. "I meant, where are you going to put him for the night? And especially if he's injured his head, it's best not to leave him alone. Someone should sit with him."

"That's not necessary," Loki protested—the undercurrents of Erik's voice were starting to unsettle him.

"He can sleep here, right on the couch," Jane suggested. "I have extra pillows in here—and I'll sit with him. I couldn't sleep right now, anyway."

"All right," Erik said slowly. Again, his eyes fell on Loki. "Call me if you need anything, Jane."

Erik turned and walked out the door. Loki's jaw tightened.

Somehow, Erik could sense Loki's weakness—somehow knew he was more badly injured than he let on. Otherwise, there was no way he would leave Jane alone.

"I'm going to bed," Darcy sighed, then fished through her bag. "Here, Jane."

"What's that?" Jane asked as she held out her hand to take what Darcy handed her.

"My taser. Night-night."

Loki had no idea what a taser was, but by the cautious way Jane handled it, he guessed it was a weapon. He eyed it and tilted his head away from Jane.

"What exactly is that?" he asked as Darcy shuffled out of the laboratory.

"A little zappy thing," Jane said, turning and setting it down on the desk. "Hurts like crazy."

Loki kept staring at it uneasily as Jane crossed into another part of the room and started going through cupboards. A moment later, though, his gaze flicked Jane's direction. Interesting. She had left the weapon behind. Clearly, she was braver than she looked. Or more foolish.

Or Loki's weakness was apparent to more than just Erik. Loki ground his teeth.

"Here," Jane said, somewhat out of breath, as she came back around the corner carrying an armful of white pillows and blue blankets. "I'll put the pillows here at this end, and you can stretch out that way if you want." She laid the pillows down and arranged them, then stood back, the blankets under her arm. She looked at him.

"What?" Loki eyed her sideways.

"Go ahead," she gestured, indicating the pillows.

"You know I will get blood all over the linen," he said.

"I would have bandaged your head if you'd have let me," she shot back. Loki blinked, then narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't want to be touched."  
"Then I suppose you're going to get blood on my linen," Jane's eyes burned now—and

Loki sensed she was upset at more than just him. So he bit the inside of his cheek so he would not scream, shifted his weight so he could turn, and then eased down onto his back.

His vision flickered and went black for a moment, and he nearly let out a wrenching yell. Instead, he just squeezed his eyes shut and let his breath out in a hiss as his head sank down onto the pillow.

"Are you sure you don't want to take off that armor and cape?" Jane asked, her voice a little quieter this time. Realization hit Loki—a realization that made him sick: the little mortal saw his suffering, and pitied him.

"I am not moving," he growled.

"Okay," she murmured. She did not approach him with the blankets, but set them by his feet. Then, she settled down at the opposite end of the L-shaped couch and fell into silence, her brow tight, her eyes fixed on him. Loki forced a swallow down his tense throat.

"What is it you want to ask me?"

Jane's gaze flickered, and she quickly shook her head.

"Nothing."

"Either tell me what it is or stop staring at me," Loki retorted, his arm taut around his middle.

Jane's gaze remained steady. Her delicate eyebrows drew together as she leaned hesitantly toward him.

"Is Thor all right?"

Loki swallowed hard again—a sudden, unexpected dart of different agony shot down from the back of his throat to the pit of his stomach.

"Why do you ask?" he said through his teeth, unable to summon much volume.

"You said he fought with Loki," she reminded him, her voice unstable. "And the bridge broke. Did Thor…Did he survive?"

Loki studied her for a long moment—the way her soft hair framed her pretty face and fell effortlessly across her shoulders, the way every angle of her small frame was still and attentive, the way her bright eyes searched his expression, and her lips parted as she held her breath, waiting for him to answer. Loki casually raised his right eyebrow.

"I don't know if he survived," he lied. "I fell off the bridge, remember?"

Jane's expression broke, and she turned her head away. Her brow twisted and tears filled her eyes. Loki stopped looking at her, and glared at the ceiling. Neither of them spoke again.

As the night deepened, Jane eased further back into the couch cushions, the sharp expression of worry on her face dulling, until her long-lashed eyes finally fluttered closed, and she fell asleep.

Loki lay perfectly still, the soft hum of the computers softening the silence, as he completed his education in the forty different types of pain that assaulted and slashed and gripped his insides. Thirty nine of them attacked his ribcage and head, threatening to tear him open if he so much as breathed wrongly.

And one kind ached like thick black poison through his blood, his only relief being that he could no longer see the stars.

LLL

Sunlight pressed softly against Jane's eyelids, and she opened her eyes. She drew in a deep breath and sighed. She stayed as she was, leaning against the soft back of the couch, warm and drowsy and quiet. Sunlight streamed in through the eastern windows, casting gold through the whole lab, and glinting against the tile floor. Jane's gaze drifted across to where the stranger lay. She paused, her brow slowly furrowing, though she didn't stir.

He had not shifted since the last time she looked at him. He lay on his back, his left arm wrapped across him, his face toward the ceiling, his eyes closed. His dark green cape draped down onto the floor and cascaded there like a frozen waterfall. His face appeared white as snow, his hair so black it was almost blue. A shaft of golden light cut across him, gleaming against his light armor, and suddenly he did not look the same as he had the night before. His face was so quiet and solemn, his features so still, he reminded Jane of a marble image of a young lord atop his coffin, or a warrior laid out in state.

Complete with a blood-stained pillow.

Jane blinked, her heart speeding up. But then she caught a glimpse of the shallow rise and fall of his chest, and relaxed back onto the couch. She bit the inside of her cheek.

How obvious had she been last night, if a wounded stranger from another planet could tell that she was devastated with disappointment? She had tried so hard to conceal it, and she'd thought she'd done a fairly good job. Yes, she had snapped at people more than once—Darcy and Fenris particularly—and neither of them deserved it. Darcy was just Darcy.

And Fenris couldn't help it if he wasn't Thor.

Jane rolled her eyes and twisted so her back leaned against the couch, and she stared out the window across the desert.

Fenris also couldn't help it if he didn't know whether or not Thor was alive. Neither could he help it if he was in extreme pain. Jane knew he was—knew he had injured something else around his midsection, but since he wouldn't even let her touch his hair, there was no way he was going to let her doctor any other part of him.

She found herself studying his profile again, and his streamlined armor, her heart heavy. Thor's presence would have matched the sunshine coming into the room. But Fenris was a sepulcher on a frosty morning.

The side door opened, and quiet footsteps entered. Jane glanced over to see Erik stride in, wearing his jeans, boots, and the same jacket as last night.

"'Morning," Jane whispered, giving him a smile, but then it faded and she frowned. "Didn't you get any sleep?"

Erik ran a hand through his disheveled hair and sighed, then came to sit down at the desk chair across from her.

"No," he confessed, keeping his voice down. "Too busy thinking about what Nick Fury said. _And _I was worried about you staying in here with him." He nodded over toward Fenris.

"Hey, I had Darcy's taser," Jane said, giving him a crooked grin. "Besides, he hasn't moved."

Erik folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, turning his head to study the stranger. Jane watched Erik.

"So…what _did _Fury say?"

Erik regarded her for a moment before speaking.

"He says he's found something—something top secret and potentially fatal for the planet if it falls into the wrong hands."

Jane sat up straight, her pulse accelerating.

"What is it? Where did it come from?"

"I don't know the answers to either of those questions," Erik said. "I hope to find out tonight, when I go see him. I'm going to be escorted there by SHIELD agents at midnight. Then, if I decide we should be involved, I'll come back and let you know, and you and I can begin studying it."

"Why wouldn't we want to be involved?" Jane asked.

"As I said, it's extremely dangerous," Erik answered, a steel-like glint entering his eyes. "And it's my job to protect you from as much of that as possible."

Jane wanted to argue, but she knew there would never be any changing Erik's mind on that subject. Instead, she dropped that subject, shifted her weight and leaned toward him, lowering her voice even more.

"So why would SHIELD request us, specifically?"

"I don't know that they have," Erik said. "I assume it has something to do with all the encounters we've had of late with people from Asgard. But I doubt we're alone. In fact, I suspect Tony Stark might also be called in to consult."

"Tony _Stark?" _Jane yelped, then both she and Erik jerked their gazes toward Fenris. He remained motionless, except for his steady breathing. Jane's head whipped back around.

"_The _Tony Stark?" she hissed. "I'm going to get to meet _Tony Stark?"_

"Only if I decide we want to get involved," Erik held up a hand.

"Oh, we're getting involved," Jane pointed at him. "There is no way I'm missing a chance like that."

"We'll talk about it later," Erik patted the hand she had pointed at him, then stood up. "I'm going to get some breakfast ready. Want me to make you some coffee?"

"Sure," Jane said, still shell-shocked.

"Oh, and—" Erik turned back. "Have you seen his eyes move at all under his eyelids?"

Jane frowned at Erik.

"Whose?"

"Him," Erik pointed at Fenris. "You might want to think about trying to wake him up," he advised. "Just to make sure he's not in a coma."

"That would be bad," Jane said, instantly sobering. No matter how snarky or cold he was when he was conscious, if Fenris was comatose, not only would she lose another valuable link to all her research—she would lose the last thread in the universe that kept her holding on to Thor.

LLLL

Loki was a master of hiding—in fact, he was so skilled that he could hide in plain sight and the others in the room would forget all about him. This is what he did starting from the moment he heard the change in Jane's breathing, telling him she was awake. He regulated his own breathing, and relaxed his eyes so they would remain still, and he listened. It took tremendous effort, for his chest and throat wanted to seize up. But the effort was worth it.

He heard everything Erik said. Everything about the discovery the mortal scientists had made—the "something" that was so powerful it could prove fatal to an entire planet.

For once in his life, Loki was now in the right place at the right time. And even if it tore him in half, he would follow Erik to visit this Nick Fury tonight, and find out exactly why they seemed to believe it was connected to the people of Asgard.

TBC

_Thank you! And review!_


	4. Chapter 4

_To those who have reviewed so far, THANK YOU! To those who haven't, PLEASE DO! I love it that you're reading, but I don't know whether or not YOU love it unless you review—and I get disheartened if I don't think anyone cares. So please show me if you care, and I will update faster! Thanks, and enjoy!_

LLLLLLLLLLLL

CHAPTER FOUR

"Be careful about touching him," Erik warned. "He says he's a guard—he may have defense reflexes."

"What the heck are defense reflexes?" Darcy asked sleepily, coming around the corner of the counter with a steaming cup of coffee. She was dressed in her usual jeans, t-shirt and jacket, but her hair looked mussed and her glasses sat low on her nose.

"A soldier will sometimes lash out if someone shakes his shoulder or prods him when he's asleep," Erik explained, facing Fenris and putting his hands in his pockets. "Especially if he is sick or hurt."

"I might lash out too if somebody shook me when I was hurt," Jane muttered, then stepped around the coffee table and sat on the edge of the couch near Fenris' hip, gazing at his still face. "Nobody wants to be woken up like that."

"Especially him, I bet," Darcy added. "He's cranky. Makes me miss Thor."

Jane swallowed, her jaw tightening as she glanced down.

"What are you going to do, then?" Erik asked. Jane didn't feel like she needed to answer. Erik seemed to be afraid of the Asgardian, but she wasn't. She couldn't be. Not when she needed him to tell her more.

Jane reached out with her right hand and rested it on the piece of armor on Fenris' forearm. Gently, she ran her thumb back and forth on the back of his cool hand.

"Fenris. Can you wake up? Fenris?" she said quietly. He didn't stir. She scooted a bit closer, then rested her fingers on his forehead. He didn't feel overly warm—that was good.

"Fenris," she repeated. "It's morning. Can you hear me?" She moved her hand down and pressed her fingertips against his throat, checking his pulse.

His eyelids fluttered and opened. Emerald eyes met hers. His pupils constricted, then he squeezed his eyes shut again against the light. Jane slowly withdrew her hand, watching him keenly. She could have sworn his eyes had been another color last night…

"Where am I?" he groaned.

"Erm…New Mexico. On Midgard," Jane said, finally remembering the word.

"Oh, yes," Fenris grunted, turning his head to his left. "Blast it."

"Are you feeling any better today?" she asked.

"Fit to spear a boar," he said through his teeth. He finally opened his eyes again. "I feel foul. In fact, I might be sick if I had anything in my stomach to retch."

Jane glanced worriedly at Erik before turning back to Fenris.

"Are you sure you don't want a hospital?" she asked.

"And what would they do to me, eh?" Fenris shot back. "Nothing I can't do myself if I'm simply left alone for a day or two."

"You mean you have, like, super healing powers?" Darcy asked, stepping closer.

"Compared to my frame, you're made of paper," Fenris said, closing his eyes again. "_Yes, _madam, I will heal. If you let me be."

"All right, so…What do you need?" Jane wondered.

"I need you to go away," he said.

Jane's mouth fell open as a stinging sensation ran through her. _Next _time, she wouldn't bother to wake him so gently—she'd probably kick him.

"Afterward, Lady Jane," Fenris added, his eyes closed. "I promise to tell you everything you are just dying to know. All right?"

She stared at him, off balance. She looked at Erik and Darcy, but neither of them could summon any words. So Jane got up, went to the counter and grabbed her cup of coffee, then strode to the door.

She pushed it open and stepped out, and the warm morning wind caught her hair and clothes. She bit back tears as her feet crunched on the gravel, then she stopped, standing in the full sun. Jane shut her eyes, letting the warmth bathe her, her hand clenched on the handle of the cup.

"Thor," she whispered, her lip trembling. She tried to say more, just in case he was somehow listening. But her thoughts went hollow, and she could only stand there, as the voiceless wind swept around her.

LLL

Loki lay still the rest of the day as Jane, Darcy and Erik moved about the laboratory, speculating about this Nick Fury's find, and studying the bridge Loki had made when he crash landed.

At first, Loki listened to their theories, interested in hearing more about Erik's mission—but when conversation turned to their speculations about the Asbru bridge and the gates between realms, it all became very ridiculous and Loki tuned them out. Then, he focused down on himself.

He knocked away that throbbing pain in his blood—he had no time to dwell on that right now—and began measuring his breathing with exact precision. It took a while, for the pain still sent a stab through him every time he moved. But after he had taken seventy-seven equal breaths, with closed eyes, he reached outside himself for the black, sparkling tendrils of power that floated invisibly around him. At first, his weakened senses could only detect a few wisps, like the smoke from an extinguished match. But as he immersed himself further, the smoke drifted nearer, became more solid, until he could coax them to him and pull them down against—down _into_—his broken chest.

As soon as those tendrils entered his skin, awareness flashed through him: he had two broken ribs and one cracked rib, and a bruise that almost covered his entire chest. One rib was quite loose, and drifted dangerously close to the delicate tissue of his right lung. The agony sharpened as he could finally "see" all the damage—his snapped bones and torn muscle in bright shades of pulsing blue, serrated white and ugly bruised green. His eyes watered. He screwed them shut.

He spread his shaking fingers out and pressed his hand down over the worst rib, though his breastplate tried to interfere. He gritted his teeth, mentally binding up the tendrils and hauling them closer, like a sailor grabbing and drawing the rigging of his sails.

Then, when Loki had laid out his plans, and blocked out all the voices of those in the lab, he took three short, preparatory breaths, and set to work weaving the minute strands of magic back and forth, back and forth, gradually pulling that one rib back into place and securing it.

He was weak, the bone break was jagged—and it hurt like mad. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he had to force himself not to bite his cheek, or he would bloody himself.

He knew he did not have time to mend this entirely before Erik left tonight to see the discovery. But at least Loki could keep his own rib from impaling him when he followed.

LLL

Loki gasped and fell against the rough outside wall of Jane's laboratory, wrapping both arms around his chest this time and grunting out each breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to keep still, letting the cool midnight wind soothe his fevered face. The spells he had cast around himself, and the efforts he had taken to remain unseen during his journey had taken their toll.

But he did not care.

He had seen it.

He had wrapped darkness and shadow around himself like a cloak, and veiled his form from the sight of all mortals. When the black sedan had come for Erik in the darkest part of the night, Loki had followed, sweeping out of the laboratory and soundlessly landing atop the vehicle. He had stood balanced atop it as it drove, like a raven on a fence, his cape billowing out behind him.

It had been a long journey—several hours—and he had the sense they had been traveling west. Loki had allowed his invisibility to drop briefly during this leg of the journey, for no other vehicles or mortals were anywhere nearby. Ordinarily, he would not have allowed himself such vulnerability. But maintaining that shield drained him—and he would need it later.

When they had finally arrived at a stone bunker sunk half in the ground, lit by the headlights and lamps atop a wire fence, Loki had vanished himself, and followed on Erik's heels like a phantom, every step in sync with the scientist's. They whispered down hallways, Erik heeding the directions of the tall, strapping guards, Loki ignoring is pain and memorizing every detail of their passage.

When they had come to the last corner and turned into a dark, tall-ceilinged hallway lined with boxes and cases, Loki had slowed down and altered his very form, so he could slide through cabinets and between hairline cracks. He stayed beside Erik and gazed sideways at him as Erik greeted a formidable, dark-skinned stranger in a suit bearing only one eye.

"So you're the man behind all this?" Erik said as he walked in, obviously trying to hide his nervousness. "It's quite a labyrinth! I was thinking: 'They're taking me down here to kill me!'" Erik laughed.

The other man said nothing. Loki's eyes narrowed as Erik's mirth vanished and he swallowed, slowing to a halt.

"I've been hearing about the New Mexico situation," the other man said, his voice deep and crisp. "Your work has impressed a lot of people who are much smarter than I am."

"I have a lot to work with," Erik confessed. "The Foster theory, a gateway to another dimension…It's unprecedented."

The other man lifted his chin. Loki sensed Erik's doubt ripple out from him.

"Isn't it?" the scientist frowned. The other man turned, hands in pockets, and strode toward a small stand on which sat a rectangular silver box.

"Legend tells us one thing, history another," the man said, coming around behind the box. "But every now and then, we find something that belongs to both."

He unlatched the box. It hissed. He lifted the lid.

A blue glow shot out from beneath the lid, dazzling Loki's eyes.

All the black sparkling tendrils around him and inside him flashed. Then, as his eyes locked on that glow, the wisps of magic danced like fireworks, setting his pulse pounding, shooting thrills and sparks down to his fingertips. And the next moment, the tendrils pulled his heart toward that sapphire light like an iron chain.

All Loki's breath locked in his lungs and he stared, transfixed, at a small glowing cube that would fit snugly in the palm of his hand should he choose to reach out and take it. But he stood frozen.

It was so old—so fantastically rich and simple and vast. He had never felt such raw power. It shook him down to his foundations, kept him rigid and breathless. And in the same moment, he was possessed by a mindless, racing terror. Terror of a crouching, sharp-fanged beast restrained by a piece of thread.

"What is it?" Erik murmured.

"Power, Doctor," the other man said, watching him. "If we can figure out how to tap it, maybe unlimited power."

Again, Loki sensed Erik's doubt, his uncertainty—and it hit Loki like a slap. His eyes flashed and his throat latched shut as he wrenched his gaze from the box and stared at Erik.

Loki was not sure what this blue box was, or what it did—he could not even decipher his whirling emotions yet to decide whether or not he hated the thing or could not live without it. All he knew was that those were suddenly his only choices: hatred, or desperate need.

And at the moment, in Loki's state of weakness, Erik was his only link to it.

Loki took a breath, and whirled the ebony and twinkling shroud around him once more. He turned his head, and whispered coaxingly, just to Erik. And when he did, he saw the scientist tilt toward him.

"Well," Loki breathed, watching him. "I guess that's worth a look."

The indecision faded from Erik's face, and he lifted his eyes to the other man.

"Well I guess that's worth a look!" he smiled.

Now, in the silence of the desert, Loki sank down to sit on the ground and lean back against the cool wall, unveiling his presence and returning to his usual state—and trying to keep from losing consciousness.

He felt dirty and clammy and tired beyond reckoning, and the mending he had done to his broken bone had nearly come apart.

But the presence of that blue box now sat heavy in his heart, like a stone at the bottom of a glass of water. He could feel it pulsing across the distance, calling his name—and three tendrils of magic, each no wider than one of his fingers, had strung themselves between him and it, and its energy played upon them, softly, like silver strings of a harp in another room.

Loki opened his eyes. The dawn pressed against the horizon, and he had to tilt his head—but if he looked straight up, he could still glimpse the stars amidst a field of velvet blue—and the unsettling strum of that harp joined the throb of black poison through his limbs.

TBC

_Please, please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_I want to thank you all for your splendid reviews! As a reward, here is an extra long chapter! Please enjoy, and review! (also, for the last scene of this chapter, I listened to "Kings of the Past" from The Lion King. Have a listen—it fits the mood.)_

_LLLL_

CHAPTER FIVE

"Where once was light  
Now darkness falls  
Where once was love,  
Love is no more  
Don't say goodbye  
Don't say I didn't try

These tears we cry  
are falling rain  
For all the lies you told us  
The hurt, the blame  
And we will weep to be so alone  
We are lost  
We can never go home"

-Gollum's Song

LLL

Jane hopped out of the van, slammed the door, then hurried around the front, still in the middle of a sentence.

"—like nothing I've ever seen before. Erik—it's incredible. I can't believe you even _hesitated_."

Erik, shutting the driver's side door and stepping up to face her, squinted against the early morning light.

"I know it's fascinating, Jane, and I'm glad you're interested—I just feel like the words 'unlimited power' need to be handled with a bit of caution."

"I think it's ridiculous we only get two hours a day with it. Two hours? That's barely a start before we have to stop!" Jane's thoughts plowed onward as they left the van behind, rounded the three campers and headed toward the lab, their feet crunching on the gravel. Their long, fresh shadows danced across the flat, dusty land, and the bright sun glinted on the windows of the lab. There wasn't a single cloud in the vast, pale sky. Jane ran a hand through her unbound hair—she had barely had time to pull a comb through it and brush her teeth before Erik had come to get her at dawn and hauled her off to the bunker for her first glimpse of the Cube.

"I know they're not sure what kind of power it's emitting," Jane allowed, gesturing broadly as she processed. "But their radiation sensors aren't picking anything up, and none of the people working with it have experienced any adverse effects."

"This is an alien technology, Jane," Erik said. "And they're being extra careful—which means you'll just have to take a few deep breaths. I know patience isn't your strong suit—"

"Patience has never gotten me anything," Jane said, stepping under the shade of the overhang. "Except missed opportunities and things I wish I…" She trailed off, her palm on the cool handle of the door.

"What?" Erik stopped beside her. Her brow tightened, and she let go of the door and leaned around the corner of the building.

There sat Fenris, facing into the rising sun, leaning back against the wall. One thin trail of blood lined the right side of his face, and his eyes stared blankly straight ahead. His cape trailed in the dust, and one leg was bent, his foot tucked under his other knee. Both arms wrapped around his middle.

"Fenris?" Jane called, suddenly unable to summon much volume. Then, her chest clenched. It was by no means a rule that people died with their eyes closed.

"Fenris?" she repeated, and hurried up to him, skidding on the dirt, Erik on her heels. The next instant though, her clamped breath released, for Fenris' eyes flickered, and his right eyebrow twitched. Jane's hand flew to her chest.

"You scared me," Jane panted. "Are you okay?"

"That's a common question with you, isn't it, madam?" Fenris said, his voice hoarse.

"Because it's a good question," Jane insisted. "It looks like you're still bleeding."

"Indeed I am," he answered. Jane hesitated, casting a glance at Erik. Erik only frowned down at the stranger.

"Well—can you get up?" Jane asked, off-balance again. Fenris frowned distantly.

"I thought of it," he said. "Then I decided against it."

"What are you doing out here?" Jane wondered, glancing around.

"I got stiff lying there," he said. "Needed a bit of fresh air."

"Well, you shouldn't sit out here," Erik advised. "With what you're wearing, you will probably get very hot once the sun gets higher."

Fenris did not answer, nor did he look at them. Jane glanced up at Erik, her stomach starting to tie itself in a knot.

"Well, I'm…I'm going to fix breakfast inside," she said slowly. "I'll prop the door open so you can call one of us if you need help coming in."

Again, Fenris stayed silent. Jane watched him for a long moment. A gust of wind came up and fluttered through her jacket and hair, and made Fenris' cape slide back through the dust.

Jane stepped back from him, then opened the door and went inside.

It was cooler, quieter in here. She took off her jacket and tossed it onto her chair. Her shoes tapped on the tiles.

"We need to do something about him, Jane," Erik said in a low voice from near the door.

"What would you suggest?" Jane muttered, rolling up her sleeves and heading to the sink to wash. "Darcy's right—we can't take him to the hospital. You remember what happened with Thor." Jane's voice softened as she dried her hands. Then she got out the spray bottle of Comet to wipe off the counter before starting breakfast. "He's not our prisoner. He's conscious, he can talk—and I have a feeling that if he didn't want to be here, he wouldn't hang around, even if he is injured." Jane swiftly wiped the counter off, put the Comet back, rinsed her hands again, then moved to the fridge. "And I'm not going to make him leave."

She turned back around with the carton of eggs to see Erik standing there, leaning on the counter with arms folded, watching her.

"What?" She held out her free hand, palm up. He raised his eyebrows.

"You want him to tell you more about Thor."

Jane gritted her teeth and put the eggs down on the counter.

"What's wrong with that?" she muttered, turning back to the fridge. She felt Erik's soft hand on the back of her head. She went still.

"Nothing. I just want you to be careful."

"Thanks, Erik," she managed, then set about scrambling the eggs.

LLLLLLLLLLLL

"I can't describe exactly what color it is," Jane said to Darcy, taking another drink of orange juice. Darcy, Erik and Jane sat at the small table, finishing up their breakfast. Fenris still sat outside—a fact that bothered Jane, but she was trying to ignore it.

"It's a sort of iridescent blue," Erik tried.

"So it glows?" Darcy said, impressed.

"Yeah," Jane grinned. "Almost hurts your eyes."

"Does it make any noise?" Darcy asked.

"Noise?" Erik's brow furrowed as he took a sip of coffee. Darcy shrugged.

"I dunno—in movies, things like that usually hum or something."

Jane looked to Erik, who shook his head. Jane shook her head, too.

"No, not that I could hear. And they didn't say anything about it transmitting any sort of vibration, so right now I'm assuming…" Jane trailed off as a presence slid into her mind. She turned her head—

To see Fenris' dark, lean form resting against the doorframe, watching them with a cool gaze—as if he had been standing there for the past hour. Jane's hand closed around the napkin in her lap. In fact he _may _have been standing there for the past hour.

"Hi," Darcy said, before Jane realized that both Erik and Darcy had spotted Fenris, too. Fenris tilted his head to Darcy, a lock of black hair falling across his brow. He met Jane's gaze briefly, then he stepped inside, soundless, one arm still hitched around his middle. He eased down into the crook of the couch where he had spent the night, settled, and remained silent.

Jane turned in her chair, studied him a moment, then screwed up her courage.

"Would you like some breakfast? We have ham and eggs, and juice."

Again, his eyebrow flicked.

"No. Thank you."

Jane's mouth tightened—she got the feeling he had added the "thank you" at the end, not to be polite, but to avoid being rude. There was a difference.

So she turned her back on him. Darcy and Erik were still watching him, so Jane cleared her throat.

"So, Darcy, when you accepted this internship, did you think you'd be discovering alien civilizations and getting shot at by giant robots?" She gave Darcy a crooked, teasing smile that she hoped didn't look forced. Darcy rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, totally," she said sarcastically. "That's just what I signed up for." She took a drink of juice. "Not that I'm not interested, of course—I just don't understand a lot of the jargon you guys throw around. It'd be nice if you'd explain this cube thing to me in layman's terms."

"I'd love to do that, actually," Jane admitted. "But right now I can't."

"Is it really that technical?" Darcy raised her eyebrows.

"No, it's just that we don't know that much about it yet," Jane said.

"What we know about it is really what we _don't _know about it," Erik said, leaning his elbows on the table. "We don't know who made it, what realm or dimension it came from, or what it does. Fury won't even tell me who he got it from."

"It's a power source," Darcy said. Erik shrugged.

"That's what it looks like. But we'll need to find out a lot more about it before we even touch it."

"I'm planning on touching it," Jane stated, digging into her eggs again. Erik chuckled.

"I know—and I think it will be funny watching them try to stop you."

Jane smirked a little, glad Erik was relaxing—but all the while she felt Fenris' eyes on her back, and knew he was listening.

LLLLL

"The Nazis. Why is it always the Nazis?" Darcy exclaimed as she set the table. Jane laughed as she stirred the soup and checked on the grilled cheese sandwiches.

"What do you mean?"

"The Nazis chased after so many occult and weird things that it's almost become a cliché," Darcy said, folding the napkins. "Look at Indiana Jones."

"Good movies," Erik inserted, browsing through the refrigerator.

"I think the American project _connected _with the discovery of this Cube is what's interesting," Jane mused, flipping over the sandwiches with a spatula. "Something about enhanced humans? I want to hear more about that."

"Again, you'll have to be patient," Erik advised, turning around with a bottle of beer and shutting the fridge.

"Yeah, it took almost a week for Nick Fury to just tell you guys where the Cube came from in the first place," Darcy reminded her.

"Ugh, I know—it's killing me," Jane groaned. "I might have to do some of my own research."

"That's what you're best at," Erik remarked, sitting down at the table. Jane set out four red plates on the counter, scooped sandwiches on to each of them, then ladled soup into four bowls. She could feel Fenris' eyes on her—always, always on her—but she acted as swiftly and efficiently as she had learned how over these past few days. She set the plates and bowls down in front of Darcy and Erik, who thanked her, then put her own food down at her place. Then, she picked up the sandwich and soup and spoon, and carried it over to the coffee table near the couch. Fenris, who stood near the corner behind the couch, leaning back against the wall, watched her as she moved. Jane slowed and stopped as she glanced down at the table, and saw Fenris' breakfast plate, filled with toast, cereal and bacon, untouched and cold. She lifted her gaze to him. Pale green eyes met hers.

"You're not eating," she said. He gave her a ghost of a smile, his lips white. Then it went away, and he shook his head once.

"I don't ask you to feed me."

Jane ground her teeth, set the lunch down and picked up the breakfast plate and set it in the sink. She sat down at the table, picked up her spoon and began to eat, resuming their earlier discussion about the World War Two origins of the glowing blue cube—feeling Fenris' listening presence behind her, constant and silent and cold as a shadow.

LLLL

Soft, evening light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow throughout the room. Jane, Darcy and Erik had pulled deeper, more comfortable chairs into the laboratory area around the table, and sat drinking coffee.

Jane had a headache—they had been discussing the Cube all day for the ninth day in a row, and the possibilities of it all were cracking her skull. Besides which, she missed Thor intensely today. There was a stupid reason—once, Erik had remarked that "Thursday" was actually "Thor's Day," and so every time it came around, Jane found herself unreasonably depressed, and could not shake it off. A heavy weight sat inside her chest, and her mind wandered back to days filled with bright blue eyes, a flash of a smile, a ringing laugh—and evenings near a fire, gazing up at the vastness of the stars. Science projects like the current one helped distract her, but now her thoughts were tired, scattered, and she couldn't stand talking about that stupid Cube anymore.

Erik took a long sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. Jane pulled her blanket up around her shoulders, tucked her legs under her, and rested her head back on the cushion. She let out a long sigh, and regarded her oldest friend.

"Tell us about Asgard," she said. Darcy, who had been dozing off in her own chair, perked up, and straightened her glasses. Erik chuckled.

"I'm not exactly an authority…" His gaze drifted past them all. Jane glanced back. Fenris sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows braced on his knees, slowly drawing a circle on his right palm with his left forefinger. The cup of coffee Jane had put on the table in front of him sat steaming, and she knew he wouldn't touch it. Jane also knew by the tilt of his head he heard every word they said. The heaviness in her heart grew. Fenris had promised to tell her more about what she wished to know if she left him alone for a few days. It had now been several, and he had barely spoken half a dozen words, let alone anything informative concerning his people or his country—or Thor. He still wore his armor and cape, and remained dust-covered—the only difference about him was that he had cleaned the blood off his face. And he looked paler.

Erik cleared his throat. Jane turned back to him. He took a deep breath and considered.

"The word 'Asgard' means 'Enclosure of the Æsir.' Asgard is one of the Nine Worlds, and is the central city of the Norse gods." Erik's voice lowered, and his eyes lit. "It is surrounded by a partly-completed wall, and is ruled by Odin, the One-Eyed All-Father, and his _beautiful _wife Frigg. Valhalla is also there."

"Who's Valhalla?" Darcy asked.

"It's not a person—it's a place," Erik explained. "Half of the warriors who die in battle travel to Valhalla, led by winged monsters called valkyries, and the other half of them go to the field of Fólkvangr, which is ruled by the goddess Freya."

"I love that name—Freya," Jane murmured, storing it away in her memory.

"In Valhalla, the dead join all the legions who have died fighting, known as Einherjar."

"What does Valhalla look like?" Jane asked.

"Well, it is a majestic, _vast_ hall, and its ceiling is thatched with golden shields," Erik said. "And in front of the hall stands a golden tree, called Glasir. All kinds of fantastic creatures live around Valhalla, like the stag Eikþyrnir and the goat Heiðrún. Both of them stand on top of Valhalla and eat the leaves of the tree Læraðr."

"So Valhalla is separate from Asgard," Darcy noted. Erik nodded.

"It is supposed to be perfect—a painless place. Like—"

"Heaven."

Jane's head came around. Erik fell silent. Jane stared at Fenris, who had spoken, but he did not move. His hands went still, the fingertips of his left hand resting lightly on the palm of his right.

"For despite the myths of Midgard, Valhalla is untouchable even by the All-Father, and cannot be entered by way of Asgard," he said. He fell silent, and Jane thought he wouldn't say any more.

And then he took a breath. And when he spoke, his tone was low and deliberate, each word formed to perfection, each phrase flowing and pausing and lifting like a quiet melody.

"But we often believe we can see Valhalla, when the sun strides through the high gates and stands watch over the great seals, giving light to the grand throne room gilded in gold," he said. "And there at the head of it waits the throne of the kings of Asgard—long-bearded fathers of mighty helms and heavy hammers, who ruled in days long sped with a quiet hand and a steady eye. The throne was hewn of a block of living gold by careful-fingered smiths, and has not stirred from its place since the age when the giants shivered the roots of the realms." He lifted his head, just an inch, and gazed out before him, seeing nothing.

"Beneath it lies the chamber of illustrious arms, where lives the All-Father's staff when he covers himself in the sheen of the Sleep. There also lives the hammer Mjollnir, the messenger of thunder—and in the far reaches of the chamber, in a coffin of stone, sleeps a broken sword whose name no one remembers.

"Above the great hall, stretching higher than any mountain, reach the mighty towers of Asgard, like flutes of silver and gold, catching daylight and starlight in their depths as they watch the flicker of the Asbru bridge holding its hand out to the heavens.

"Below, near the heels of the towers, spill ten-thousand fountains of healing water, clearer than the sky and purer than snow, and they feed the gardens where bend the trees that are older than the realm. They glimpse the first of the sunrise, and witness the coming of the day as it flashes like lightning through the waiting sky." Fenris laced his fingers together, and his gaze moved as if he were watching something very far away.

"And when the sun falls and twilight pulls its cloak over the sky, night never truly descends," he murmured, in a soft, piercing tone. "For a quiet light remains in the west, touching the edge of the silver water. Sometimes, if you stand alone and listen, you can hear the sea birds sing your name, feel the surf call on the wind, and it is all you can do to keep from making sail and meeting that light where it stands." He paused, his gaze flickered, and his brow tightened, just minutely.

"But then a lamp will come to life in a chamber above you," he whispered. "The scent of roasting meat and stewing lintel will reach your breath, and the strum of a lute will touch your ears. Then, someone will call your name, call you inside, to the light and the warmth." His words quieted so they almost could not hear him. "And you will forget the shine on the water, and remember the people you love—and that you are home."

For a long moment, everyone went silent. Then, Jane sucked in a deep breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Her heart fluttered, and she couldn't pull her eyes away from him.

"Wow," Darcy murmured.

They all stayed still where they sat, waiting for him to go on. But he did not look at them, and for the rest of the evening, he said nothing.

LLLLL

Jane threw her covers off herself with a huff. She tossed yet another exasperated glance at the glowing green numbers on her clock. Three a.m. She had not slept yet.

All night, her head had been spinning with images of Asgard—the flute-like towers, the tumbling water, the gardens, and the light on the sea. At first, the thought of the gold light pouring through the halls had made her sigh. But then her thoughts caught, like an anchor through a reef, on the broken sword lying in the shadows whose name no one can remember.

Why had it been broken? And why had they kept it so long if no one knew what it was? And what about the All Father's staff? And what was the sheen of the Sleep?

What places in Asgard had Thor frequented? What hallways were his favorite, which rooms did he retire to? What view made him pause and look at the color of the sky, and listen to the sound of the waterfalls below him?

What had dinner been like, between Thor and his family and friends? What games had they played together, what stories had they told? She could imagine it, but imagination at the moment felt very inadequate, and frustrated her so badly she couldn't rest.

She sat up, pushed her hair out of her face, and got up. Her trailer was dark, except for the glow of her clock and a small night light under the cupboard in the kitchenette. She reached across to the opposite wall, grabbed her robe off a hook and threw it on, then donned her slip-on shoes. Sighing, she opened the door of her trailer and stood for a moment as the cool night air swept up to meet her. Carefully, Jane stepped down the squeaky stairs and started toward the lab, her robe swishing, her shoes shuffling in the dirt. She glanced up.

There was no moon. Stars hung in the sky like billions of diamonds on a black velvet blanket, bright enough to light her way. She wrapped her arms around herself and picked up her pace. She hoped a warm cup of decaf tea and this brief walk would help her settle down.

She reached the door, then paused as her hand stretched halfway to the handle.

The door stood propped open with a book. Frowning, Jane opened the door and leaned inside.

A low white light had been left on in the kitchen area—a light that illuminated Fenris' usual place on the couch. It was empty.

Her heart sped up and her throat closed. She couldn't summon the breath to call his name—she didn't want to wake up Erik and Darcy, besides—but she backed up and strained her eyes for a glimpse of his dark form.

Had he left already? Had he considered that monologue about Asgard to be a fulfillment of his promise to tell her more?

But if he left, where would he go? What would he do? How could he—

She stopped. Her frame went still.

Fenris stood about fifty meters away from the building, arms loose at his sides. His pale face tilted toward the sky, and the starlight reflected in his eyes. She heard him breathing—it was more labored than normal—but he did not acknowledge her. She wondered if he even knew she was there.

She watched him for a long time as his gaze searched the stars, and the wind listlessly touched the hem of his cape. Once, his left hand twitched up toward his chest, and his breath snagged. But he didn't lower his gaze, and he didn't stray from that spot. So, after several minutes, Jane pulled herself away and crept back to her trailer, taking a quick backward glance to make sure the book still propped open the door of the lab so he could get back in.

LLLL

He had said all those things to appease her. That was the truth Loki kept repeating to himself as he gazed up at the stars, taking time to linger on each and every individual point of light. He had felt Jane getting restless these past days—had sensed it each time she tried to make him eat. He enjoyed frustrating her, watching her brown eyes flash in irritation, testing the limits of her patience.

Never mind that he knew he couldn't swallow anything without choking, anyway.

He hadn't said all those things to prove he was from Asgard—but he had to admit that Erik's ignorance and ineloquence concerning the subject galled him. He had meant to make poetry of his explanation, to show how the place _ought _to be spoken and thought of.

Remembering the waterfalls did not lodge in his chest like a knife. Recalling the sun in the throne room did not pull at the sinews somewhere behind his breastbone. And thinking of the light in the western sky did not draw him upward while an inexorable force kept him bound down like a stone.

He had said those things to appease her.

That was all.

TBC

_Please review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for all your great reviews! :D I went and saw "Thor" again for the 3rd time, to make certain I had everything in line. ;) Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!_

CHAPTER SIX

"Guess you really did it this time  
Left yourself in your war path

Lost your balance on a tightrope  
Lost your mind trying to get it back

Wasn't it beautiful  
When you believed in everything  
And everybody believed in you?"

-_Innocent_

Jane stared into the dancing flames, feeling the heat of them against her fingers, her cheeks and her nose. She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, listening to the crackle of the embers. Erik sat next to her on a lawn chair. Jane lifted her eyes, and looked out over the blackness beyond. The town behind her glowed, fading out the sky, but far above that hung the deepest stars. She tipped her head back, and watched the smoke curl upward and vanish. She had always loved sitting on the roof—it was like a giant front porch and a backyard at the same time. But now, all she could think of was a pencil drawing in a book, and the firelight shining in a pair of warm eyes, and the sound of a deep, hearty laugh.

"Are you all right?" Erik asked. Jane sighed and rubbed her hands together.

"I don't know," she confessed. Then she shrugged one shoulder. "I mean, I'm thrilled with the progress we're making on the Cube—it's the most fascinating thing I've ever had the chance to look at. But I…" She trailed off, and held out her hands palms up. "I feel like I'm waiting for something. Or that I should be doing something that I'm not. Or I'm missing something."

Erik scooted his chair closer.

"He told you he'd come back," he soothed. "He will."

Jane glanced over at her friend's rugged face. He gazed back at her steadily, and gave her a small smile. Her brow tightened.

"He can't, Erik," she murmured. "Fenris said the bridge broke, remember?"

"Ah, Fenris," Erik sighed, leaning back and folding his arms. Jane hung her head, feeling her stomach muscles clamp as a soft breeze brushed through her hair.

"I don't know what to do about him."

"He's not eating?" Erik asked.

"He's not eating _anything_!" Jane cried, sitting up and slapping her hands down on her thighs. "I'm at a complete loss. I make three meals every day for him, set them down on that table, and then throw away whole plates of food because he won't even try it. I've seen him take a few sips of water once in a while, but other than that…" She shook her head and flopped back in the chair. "I don't know what to do. It's been a week and a half—how long does he expect to survive without eating?"

"I've heard a person can go quite a while," Erik said.

"Not when he's injured," Jane countered. She bit her lip. "And not when he's been bleeding."

Erik paused.

"Why do you think he won't eat?"

Jane hesitated, then shook her head again.

"Not sure. At first I thought was because he was in too much pain. I _know _he got hurt somewhere in his midsection, but I might as well try to doctor a rabid dog." Jane snapped a twig in half and threw it on the fire. She paused. "But then I think he _decided_ to stop eating."

Erik frowned, considering.

"It's emotional, then."

Jane glanced at him.

"Maybe. I mean, if Thor can't get _here_, then Fenris can't get back _there_. He's stranded."

Erik thought for a long moment.

"You think he's given up?"

Jane's brow tightened as she stared over the flames.

"I don't know. When he first came, there was a little fight in him, and he almost seemed interested when we'd talk about the Cube, or whatever else was going on. I knew he was listening, especially when he'd say something irritating just to remind us he was there. But ever since we had that conversation about Asgard…" Jane glanced down at her thumbs, rubbing one against the other. Her jaw tensed. "He won't talk. I mean it, Erik, he doesn't say a word. He just sits there on that couch and stares at the wall. I've asked him how he's doing, I've told him I'd get him anything he needs, I've gone over and put books on the table, and board games and anything I can think of to try and get him to re-engage even a little bit, and it's like I don't exist." She picked up another stick and held it in her hands a moment, frustration stinging the back of her throat. "Whether it's on purpose or not, I don't know…" she let out a tight breath. "But he's going to kill himself. I just wish I knew what I could do about it."

"You're a brilliant woman, Jane," Erik said. "But it's possible you're treating him like a problem you have to solve."

Jane looked at him and frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Erik just chuckled, shook his head, and tossed a twig on the fire, leaving her to contemplate that on her own.

LLLLL

It rained. The water poured down in sheets, blackening the evening sky and racing across the windows in streaks. Loki sat sideways on the couch, leaning back into the crook, his legs propped up on the seat cushions. He laid his head sideways onto the back cushion of the couch, and concentrated on drawing in and exhaling even breaths, so he would retain consciousness.

His ribs were still cracked. Earlier, he had been taking pains every night to stitch them back together, but the nights had become thin and hard, and offered him no rest, so his strength had petered off and he had abandoned the effort. He just stared at the blank ceiling, restless and sore. The heaviness in his blood got worse with every passing day. He did not sleep. And he had no interest in eating. He had swallowed a bit of water now and then, but the idea of chewing repulsed him. His skin had gone cold, his lips parched. And today, he had not moved from his couch once.

The others had come and gone and walked and talked all around him, discussing the Cube and the upcoming meteor shower just like every day before. He sensed Erik shoot him narrow glances, and Jane give him lingering gazes. They wondered what was wrong with him—wondered why he stayed so still. But he didn't return their looks anymore. He watched the few vehicles drive by through the windows; watched a handful of pedestrians go from one door to another, all distant and soundless, shielded by the glass.

He still sensed that glowing box, far away—the tendrils of magic connecting him to it hummed uneasily, reminding him of the raw power that waited there at the other end—waited like an open electrical socket. Knowing what he knew about it now—even the little bit—spun his mind sideways. He knew what he could do with it, what he _wanted_ to do.

Yet he couldn't bear to think of it. None of it.

It had been a mistake in telling Jane about Asgard. The images he had dredged up had been like swallowing a cocktail of slow-acting hemlock—it spread through him like a black river, turning his insides to water.

_"No, Loki…"_

His muscles felt like lead, his heart splintered and the pieces lost. A vision of the golden city hung in the air before him, as thunder snarled over his head and he methodically counted his scars.

LLLL

"I heard a voice, that cried,  
'Balder the Beautiful  
Is dead, is dead!'  
And through the misty air  
Passed like the mournful cry  
Of sunward sailing cranes."

It was evening again, and they had gathered in the laboratory to wind down after

spending the day studying the Cube—though their research had been admittedly fruitless the past two days. Jane now sat next to Darcy at a long table covered in star charts. Darcy, tucked back in her chair, was busy sketching a dark, detailed picture of her cat from back home. Jane had a current satellite map of the Milky Way laid out in front of her, which she marked with a silver pen. However, both of them were listening to Erik, who held a book of Norse-related poetry—and at the moment, he read to them in his deep voice a poem by Longfellow.

"I saw the pallid corpse  
Of the dead sun  
Borne through the Northern sky," Erik went on.  
"Blasts from Niffelheim  
Lifted the sheeted mists  
Around him as he passed.

And the voice forever cried,  
'Balder the Beautiful  
Is dead, is dead!'  
And died away  
Through the dreary night,  
In accents of despair."

Jane's pen paused, and she lifted her eyes to Erik. Darcy kept sketching. Erik glanced up, smiled at her, then continued reading.

"Balder the Beautiful,  
God of the summer sun,  
Fairest of all the Gods!  
Light from his forehead beamed,  
Runes were upon his tongue,  
As on the warrior's sword.

All things in earth and air  
Bound were by magic spell  
Never to do him harm;  
Even the plants and stones;  
All save the mistletoe,  
The sacred mistletoe!"

"Mistletoe," Darcy murmured. "That's interesting."

Jane put the cap on her pen, rested her elbows on the chart, and listened intently to Erik

now.

"Hoeder, the blind old God,  
Whose feet are shod with silence,  
Pierced through that gentle breast  
With his sharp spear, by fraud,  
Made of the mistletoe!  
The accursed mistletoe!

They laid him in his ship,  
With horse and harness,  
As on a funeral pyre.  
Odin placed  
A ring upon his finger,  
And whispered in his ear.

They launched the burning ship!  
It floated far away  
Over the misty sea,  
Till like the sun it seemed,  
Sinking beneath the waves.  
Balder returned no more!"

"Wait," Darcy sat up as Erik opened his mouth to continue. He looked at her. She frowned, and flicked her pencil back and forth.

"Did you say something about the guy who did it being blind?"

"Yes," Erik nodded, then pointed to a line on the page. "'Hoeder, the blind old God, Whose feet are shod with silence, Pierced through that gentle breast With his sharp spear, by fraud—"

"How did he do _that?_" Jane asked. "He's blind."

Erik closed the book, leaving his thumb in between the pages.

"It was Loki," he explained. "He disguised himself and went to Frigg, who had cast the spell to protect Balder. Loki found out from her which plant had _not_ been put under the spell—the one that _could _hurt Balder. Then he made a spear out of it, and gave it to Hoeder. You see, the other gods were enjoying themselves by throwing things at Balder, because nothing could hurt him. Hoeder just thought he was joining in on the joke. Loki helped him aim, since he was blind. And the spear of mistletoe went right through Balder. Killed him."

"What the heck?" Darcy said, putting her sketchbook down. "Why did Loki do that? Did he have a problem with this Balder, or what?"

Erik shrugged.

"Didn't seem to."

"I don't understand," Jane said, frowning. "Loki knew he was going to hurt him—_kill _him probably—and he was going to do it anyway _and _let somebody else take the blame?"

"Loki is like that," Erik sighed. "An agent of chaos, of thoughtless mischief, regardless of consequences. He likes to find ways to twist things, exploit the loopholes, set something on fire and laugh in the other room while people scream."

"So he _killed _somebody?" Jane protested. "For _fun?"_

"Not just somebody," Erik said. "It was Thor's brother."

Jane's face drained of heat. Darcy's mouth fell open.

"Holy crap," she whispered.

Jane sat back, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

"So what happened to this creep?" Darcy kept on. "Did anybody find out he was the one who did it? What did they do to him?"

"Oh, yes, they caught him," Erik nodded. "He tried to escape—turned himself into a fish for a while, I think—but yes, they got him."

"_And?" _Darcy pressed.

"They chained him up underneath a waterfall of venom," Erik said. "And his wife had to stand in front of him and catch the venom in a bowl, over his head, then turn around and empty it out. But while she was turning and emptying it out, the venom would drip down on Loki's shoulders—it made him shiver so hard the earth shook."

"Good," Jane said through her teeth, her eyes unfocused, her knuckles pressed to her lips.

"I'm surprised Thor didn't beat him up," Darcy muttered, sitting back again. "Kick him right to Mars."

"He could have, I suppose," Erik said. "Though Loki is Thor's brother, too."

There was a long pause as Jane stared at Erik.

"What the _freaking heck?" _Darcy exclaimed. "What is _wrong _with these people? And who decided _that_ convoluted punishment, huh? That venom thing? Not good enough."

"No," Jane decided, still cold all over. "If he likes killing people for fun, he'd do it again. Odin should have had him executed."

"That's what I think," Darcy agreed. "I mean, the freak killed his _brother_."

"You…have _no _idea what you are talking about."

The voice hissed out from the corner, slithering through the air like chains against stone. Jane spun around, her heart jerking. Fenris, who sat on the couch, had turned his white face toward them—and his green eyes, with dark circles around them, burned the distance between them.

"You pathetic little mortals—tiny nobodies spinning around on a primitive rock," he spat, his lips like snow, his voice hoarse. "Passing judgment on princes _thousands _of years older than you, and basing those judgments on second-hand accounts written by sentimental poets who _never _saw what happened, nor stood inside the halls of mourning nor watched the pyre flames burning the long hair from a prince's head." Fenris dragged his legs off the couch, and with his jaw clenching hard, he stood up. The end of his cape tumbled to his ankles. He pressed his left hand to his right side, but it was in reflex—his stark eyes struck them silent.

"You talk about Asgard as if you know it, as if you could possibly understand the depths and heights of it, and the people who have lived there for longer than you can imagine," he snarled like a wolf, his shoulders tight. "As if you'd have the faintest idea how Odin passes a verdict, or how Frigg tries to protect her children, or how a mistake can be made when a spell is cast wrongly." He stopped, and swayed. He forcibly straightened himself, a snarl looming between his eyebrows. "What do you know about punishments, and their severity, or mislaid blame?" He bared his teeth, and his voice rose. "_Think, _you idiots! Why would Loki kill his brother for no reason? And how could a woman hold a wide bowl full of venom so long and high over his head?" He gestured wildly with his right hand. "Why not his other brother, the one with thunder in his arms, hm? The one who was itching for revenge, the one who _wanted _him to suffer?" Fenris' eyes blazed—gleamed with unshed tears. "Especially since such a woman never _existed_—and it all was an _accident, _and when they finally realized it, Loki was unchained from the rocks—but not before it had almost _killed him!_" He bent and slapped the tall glass of water on the coffee table. It flew through the air and shattered on the floor. Jane leaped to her feet, her heart pounding.

Fenris' terrible gaze fell on her. His hands shook.

"You know nothing," he hissed. "So you should say nothing."

Darcy threw back her chair and got up. She shot a wide-eyed look at Jane, then turned and hurried out the door. Erik followed her, calling her name. Jane, trembling all over, pushed around Darcy's abandoned chair and caught the door before it closed—

But before she hurried after her friends, she saw Fenris sink down onto the couch, his hands in fists, and close his eyes.

LLLLL

"He's a psychopath," Darcy stated as she rammed unfolded clothes into her suitcase. "Completely crazy _and _violent. And I'm not staying here to see when he decides to explode."

"But Darcy, you can't leave!" Jane cried, pushing herself back against a cabinet in Darcy's crowded trailer as the college student hurried past her. "This Cube is going to change everything! We're on the brink of one of the greatest breakthroughs in scientific history—"

"No, _I'm _not," Darcy paused, pointing at her, then at Erik, who stood hunched in the kitchenette. "_You _guys are. I've been glad to help with that, and get extra credit or whatever, but this is getting stupid." She pulled open another drawer and began packing its contents. "I've had a bad feeling about this Fenris guy ever since you almost ran him over. He's not like Thor. He's bad news. And I'm getting out of his way."

"Darcy…" Jane pleaded.

"Jane, don't look at me like that," Darcy sighed, finally facing her friend. "If you ever get a handle on him, figure out what's the matter—or just wind up shooting him—let me know and I'll be back. I just can't ignore my gut anymore, okay?"

Jane's heart fell into her shoes. She turned to Erik, looking for help, but his dark, furrowed gaze offered none.

"Okay," Jane murmured. "We'll get out of your way so you can pack."

Darcy looked at her for a second, then stepped up and gave her a tight hug. Jane swallowed hard. Darcy backed up and took her by the shoulders. She raised her eyebrows.

"There's an extra bedroom at my mom's house if you decide you need to escape too. Okay?"

"Okay," Jane gave her a weak smile, then turned to hide the fact that she was about to cry. She pushed open the trailer door and stumbled down the stairs, hearing Erik follow. The door banged shut. Jane stopped, taking deep breaths. Erik came up to stand beside her.

"You all right?" he asked. Jane stared back toward the lab, and the dim white light she could see through the windows. She nodded once. Erik let out a heavy breath.

"You don't think he's crazy," he muttered. Jane's eyes flickered, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"No, Erik," she confessed. "That was something else."

LLLL

Jane sat on the edge of her bed, listening to the wind beat against the walls of her trailer. It was past midnight, but she was still dressed—her thoughts fixated on that shattered glass of water. Erik had gone to his own trailer about an hour ago, and the light had gone off in Darcy's place—she would leave in the morning. Jane sat, motionless, waiting for the rain to return and lull her to sleep.

But it didn't. The restless gusts just kept rocking her trailer back and forth. Her eyebrows came together as her head hung low.

"_It's_ _possible you're treating him like a problem you have to solve…"_

Jane's jaw tightened. Then, she stood up, grabbed her jacket, and stepped outside.

The wind whipped her hair, and she zipped her jacket up to her throat. She ducked her head and quickly made for the door of the lab. Taking a bracing breath, she unlocked it, stuffed her keys back in her pocket, pulled the silent door open and stepped inside. She glanced up. She paused.

Fenris sat in the bend of the couch, as always, lit by a light near the counter. He was leaned back, his left arm in its usual spot across his middle. But in his other hand, he held a book open on his knee—it was the Norse Mythology book Erik had gotten at the library. He stared, unseeing, at the west glass wall. And tears ran down his face.

Jane stopped breathing.

His expression was blank—pale and absent—but crystal drops trailed from his glistening eyes down his cheeks, wetting his long black eyelashes, and running down his neck. She almost could not distinguish the clarity of his eyes—they looked like pools of emerald and silver. She watched as two, three heavy teardrops tumbled from his chin and hit the bronze of his chest armor, striking away the dust and sending a sparkle through the room. Jane shifted just an inch closer.

Her feet crunched on broken glass. She winced.

Fenris cleared his throat, and reached up with a shaking left hand to swipe at his face. His pale fingers wiped away his tears, but when his hand dropped, his eyes still gleamed. He ducked his head away from her, and his right hand squeezed the book shut.

Biting her lip, Jane righted herself and stepped forward, deciding to pretend as if she hadn't seen anything. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't turn to her. She came up to the counter and flipped on a light, then opened a cupboard and got the kettle down. Then, she reached over and flipped on a burner, and started filling up the kettle with water.

She took a breath, trying to stay calm and casual as the water hissed. Then, a thought hit her, and she took another breath.

Quietly, she began humming a tune that had been a favorite of her mother's a very long time ago. Jane remembered hearing her hum it while she worked in the kitchen. She hadn't known until years later that it was the melody of the old hymn "Nearer My God to Thee"—Jane had just always found it soothing. It reminded her of home.

Jane's voice felt far weaker than her mother's, but she forced the tune out, and tried to keep it soft and easy. She set the kettle on the burner, then plucked a tea bag of English Breakfast tea out of its box, then dug in another cabinet for the tea pot and set.

As she waited for the water to boil, she found the sugar, and got the creamer out of the refrigerator. When the kettle whistled, she put the tea bag in the pot, and poured the hot water in. Then, she found a small tray, and piled the tea pot, two cups with saucers, and the cream and sugar all on it, picked it up and carried it to the coffee table near Fenris. He did not look at her. She set the tray down amidst the piles of books, then, mentally bracing herself, she came around and sat on the couch next to him.

She kept a bit of distance between them, but she tucked her feet up under her in a cross-legged position and sighed comfortably, then pulled the tea tray a little closer.

"My parents got this tea set as a wedding present. There are four more cups," Jane said. "Mom liked it particularly because it's plain white—she thought it was 'elegant.'" She smiled. "After she died, though, my dad thought it was a little _too _elegant, so we just kept it in the china cabinet." Jane lifted the lid off the sugar bowl and put three scoops into her cup, then three in the other. "My dad died in a car accident when I was seventeen. We were in Sweden—he was teaching at a university. I was a really sound sleeper back then, and I'd gone to bed early. When he…When it happened, the hospital called our house, and so did Erik—lots of times—but I slept right through it. So when I woke up…" Jane shrugged one shoulder and picked up the creamer. "He'd already been gone for five hours."

She risked a glance up at Fenris.

He was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. His glittering emerald eyes penetrated her, watched her—captured her. His brow furrowed. He was listening.

Jane gave him a small smile. His look flickered, and he swallowed. She turned back and picked up the tea pot and poured into the two cups.

"It's why I have trouble sleeping sometimes now. But it's also why I decided to actually use this tea set. Sometimes, when I come out here and drink tea, it's like I'm with them. Makes me feel a little better." She stirred both cups, put a little creamer in each, then picked up a cup and saucer and held it out to him, without looking at him.

An instant passed.

Then, she felt careful hands take it from her—soft fingers brushed hers. As soon as she was sure he wouldn't drop it, she let go, and took up her own tea. She brought it to her lips and pulled in a sip, and swallowed, letting the hot liquid soothe her throat.

"Actually," she said, canting her head at the things on the table. "A lot of these books were my mom's, too. Dad wasn't in to reading much—unless it was astronomy journals. Mom was a big reader, though. Liked old stories." Jane set her cup down and pulled one of the books out from the middle of the pile. It had a battered green cover, with faded gold writing. "The Fellowship of the Ring," she said, running her finger on the spine. "Ha—I think…Well, if I remember right, the beginning of this one is kind of funny…" She opened it and set it on her lap, flipping through the introductory pages. She grinned. "Yeah, here it is. 'Concerning Hobbits." She cleared her throat, and started to read. "'This book is largely concerned with Hobbits, and from its pages a reader may discover much of their character and a little of their history. Further information will also be found in the selection from the Red Book of Westmarch that has already been published, under the title of The Hobbit. That story was derived from the earlier chapters of the Red Book, composed by Bilbo himself, the first Hobbit to become famous in the world at large…'"

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fenris take a deep, long drink of tea.

Jane almost stammered, but quickly kept reading as if she had not noticed.

"…and called by him _There and Back Again_, since they told of his journey into the East and his return: an adventure which later involved all the Hobbits in the great events of that Age that are here related…"

She kept reading aloud, attempting to do the voices of Gandalf and Bilbo and other characters as she came to them, and trying not to laugh at herself or stumble in nervousness. Finally, she fell into a comfortable rhythm, getting lost in the story herself, as her tea got cold.

"'_The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with eager feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say.'" _Jane paused, and dared a glance to her right.

Fenris had laid his head back into the couch, and his eyes were closed. His tea cup sat empty on the table. He breathed deeply, evenly. He was asleep.

Carefully, Jane shut the book and set it down. Trying to stay silent, she got up, picked up a blue fleece blanket from the other end of the couch, unfolded it, and spread it over him.

As she tucked it up near his shoulders, hoping he wouldn't wake up, she gazed for a moment at his still, pale face. The lines between his eyebrows had smoothed, his mouth had softened, and a tear still glistened in the corner of his eye.

Jane withdrew, watched him for another moment, then headed back to her trailer, making a mental note to sweep up the broken glass first thing in the morning.

TBC

_Please review if you're enjoying!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Whoosh, this is a long chapter! But all of you reviewers delight me so much—you deserve it! Please keep it coming, and enjoy!_

_LLLLL_

"Did some things you can't speak of  
But at night  
You live it all again

You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now  
If only you had seen  
What you know now then

Wasn't it easier  
In your firefly-catching days  
When everything out of reach  
Someone bigger brought down to you?

Wasn't it beautiful  
Running wild till you fell asleep  
Before the monsters caught up to you…"

-_Innocent_

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sunset in the sky over Asgard lit the clouds with a golden sheen, and deepened the heavens above it, lighting the billions of constellations and colorful glowing nebula. The soft, warm breeze wafted through the open windows and across the balconies of the palace. Below, the distant waterfalls whispered, and a flight of white birds twittered as they flitted past the second highest tower. But Thor Odinson, who stood on a broad balcony overlooking the majesty of the mountains and the vastness of the sky, saw nothing, and could not hear the song of the birds or the waters. His eyes had filled with tears, and he was unafraid of letting them fall as he leaned his broad hands on the stone railing. He wore a deep red tunic and trousers embroidered with gold—his usual attire felt too heavy today.

Cloth whispered behind him. He straightened, and tried to gather himself. He turned, expecting to see his mother. Then, his eyebrows went up, and he swiped at his eyes.

"Sif," he said, then cleared his throat to steady it. He forced a smile, but could summon no other words.

Sif, wearing a long blue gown, her hair hanging loose, watched him from the doorway for a moment. Thor found it too difficult to meet her always-intense gaze, so he turned back, and studied the peaks in the distance.

Soft footsteps approached him, and then he saw Sif lean her winsome form against the railing off to his right.

"I cannot believe it," she whispered. "All that time…he was a Frost Giant."

Thor gave a rough laugh—it hurt his throat.

"I cannot believe it either."

"Did the All Father tell you why he kept it a secret?" she asked, gazing at him. Thor ran his thumb along the smooth stone.

"He said he wanted Loki to feel like one of us—like his son. Like my brother."

For a long while, both of them were silent. Thor's hand turned into a fist, and he set it down on the railing.

"I don't know what to think of him, now. Loki," he said, his jaw tighter. "My father gave him mercy—a home—when _his _father had left him to die. We took him in as one of our family, and raised him as a prince. And he turned around and did…what he did."

"He was a traitor," Sif said. Thor looked at her.

"And he was your friend," he said.

Sif ducked her head, her hair fluttering. She bit her lip.

"I know, Thor," she murmured. "I just couldn't bear what he did to you."

Thor smiled, his heart growing a little warmer.

"Which is why you came to rescue me, right?"

She looked up at him, and returned his small smile. But soon it faded, as she studied his face.

"You truly miss him?"

Thor looked away again, gazing far off into the stars. He did not speak for several minutes. But when he finally did, his chest tensed.

"I ought to hate him," he said. "And I have been so angry with him lately I can't see straight. But today…" he shook his head and swallowed. "All I can think of is what he must have felt when Father told him the truth."

It was a long time before either of them said anything.

"Have you forgiven him, then?" Sif asked softly. Thor's gut tightened painfully, and a cold wave went through him. He gritted his teeth. Too much swirled through his insides—too much for him to even voice to his old friend. So he did not answer.

And then Sif reached out and rested her warm hand on top of his.

Thor straightened, and looked at her. But she did not lift her eyes to him. She just gazed out at the horizon, holding his hand with gentle pressure.

Something pressed against Thor's heart, then, adding to the confusion there—but also somehow soothing it. This was what he liked about Sif: she didn't have to say a word, and he knew she was there, and cared for him. After a moment of studying her sunset-lit profile, he smiled again, stepped a little closer to her, and cast his gaze across the splendor of Asgard, trying to breathe deeply and relieve the knot of pain in his chest.

LLLLLL

"Erik! Erik, guess what?" Jane hammered on the door of Erik's trailer, though she kept herself from yelling. It was still early morning, but Jane was already dressed and ready and had been awake for several hours. Erik, however, had clearly _not _been awake.

"What, what?" he mumbled as he opened the door and stuck his mussed head out. He squinted at her. "Is something wrong?"

"Ha! No!" Jane crowed, then whipped around to make sure she hadn't said that too loud. She turned back to Erik. "Did Darcy leave already?"

"Yeah, I think I heard her drive out around five this morning," Erik rubbed his face. "What's the matter?"

"Erik," Jane said, with hushed excitement. "He ate breakfast."

Erik blinked and looked at her again.

"He what?"

"He ate _breakfast_," Jane repeated, practically jumping up and down. "I got up and made ham and eggs and set them down in front of him and sat there on the couch and read him some of _The Fellowship_, and he _ate the food. _All of it!"

"That's great, Jane," Erik woke up enough to smile. "Very, very good. Congratulations."

Jane gave him a wild grin, hardly able to contain herself.

"I think he's going to be okay," she declared. "At least I won't be so worried about him while we're at the bunker."

"That's very good news. I'm glad to hear it," Erik said sincerely. "Just give me a second and I'll get dressed, and then we can get going."

"Okay," Jane said, stepping back and letting him shut the door, still smiling. She stood for a moment, then turned and faced the bright sunrise—and cast a glance far up into the blue sky. Then, she stuck her hands in her pockets and headed back to the lab to gather her things.

LLLLLL

Usually, when Jane studied the Cube with Erik and the other SHIELD scientists, all the rest of the world disappeared, and the research and experiments consumed her.

But today, her mind wasn't there. Yes, the Cube had begun to radiate some sort of energy during the past few days, but it did not fluctuate, and it wasn't causing any abnormal readings on any of the sensors. In fact, it didn't seem to be doing anything other than humming. They checked and re-checked the data on the "hum"—which Jane usually would have still found captivating—but today it seemed tedious, and she actually wished for their two hours to be over so she could go home and see if Fenris had eaten the sandwiches she had made for his lunch.

But of course, today, SHIELD changed the schedule.

Today, Agent Colson decided to give her and Erik a tour of a deeper part of the bunker, where they kept certain artifacts from the Super Soldier project—the one connected with the discovery of a Cube. And he spent the rest of the day debriefing them on the intelligence SHIELD had uncovered concerning the enemies of the first super soldier—those working with the Nazis—and the fact that some researchers were speculating that the Cube might be able to take on some human-like characteristics. How a glowy cube could take on a personality was beyond Jane, though she still did try to absorb everything—but she kept glancing down at her watch so much that Erik finally had to elbow her.

They didn't get back to their revamped service station until six in the evening. Jane pulled up and parked the van, and she and Erik got out. The sun was already casting long shadows across the dirt and pavement, and the town was quiet—everybody was at home for supper. The slam of their car doors echoed.

"Jane, I'm heading to my trailer—I think I'll take a nap," Erik said. "Something about those fluorescent lights in that bunker just murders my head."

"Okay," Jane said. "I might send for a pizza or something. Or if I go out, I'll bring you something back."

"Okay, thanks," Erik muttered. Jane winced as she watched him go—his headache must be really bad if he wasn't interested in keeping her company in the lab, where Fenris was.

The door shut on Erik's trailer, and Jane headed to the station, keeping her strides even, though she wanted to hurry.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, past the place where she had cleaned up the glass earlier. Fenris looked up.

He sat on a completely different section of the couch, his elbows leaned on his knees, _The Fellowship_ open in his left hand. He raised his eyebrows.

"I was beginning to think you'd abandoned the place," he said. His eyebrows came together. "Which was a distressing thought, considering that there is no more food in the ice box."

Jane tried not to, but she stared at him. He had color in his face again, and the dark circles around his eyes had faded. But mostly what caught her was the glint of light in his eyes—a glint that hadn't been there since the first night she saw him.

"You're feeling better," she managed. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Slightly. Before, I was death—now I'm merely warmed up a bit."

Jane watched him for a moment, uncertain—and then she saw the tiniest hint of a smile around his eyes. She took a few steps toward him.

"So…you're hungry?"

He canted his head, then thought for a moment.

"I could eat."

Jane grinned, then quickly hid it, and snagged her purse off a chair.

"Well, then—let's go get something."

He shut the book and lifted his right eyebrow.

"You plan on taking me somewhere?"

"Yeah," Jane said quickly, though she had only just decided it. "Some air and exercise will be good for you. Come on."

LLLL

"So…This is it. Our little town. For a while, anyway," Jane waved her hand to encompass the main street, lit by the twilight. Fenris walked just to her left, his cape fluttering in the breeze, and glanced around him.

"Seems there have been a few accidents," he commented. Jane looked where he did. The smashed cars had been cleared away, but several lamp posts still lay over onto the sidewalks, others did not work, and still others just flickered on and off. Jagged black burn marks lined the street, many of the businesses had boarded their windows, and as Jane and Fenris walked past a building just to their left, glass crunched under their feet.

"The Destroyer did this," Jane said. "At least, that's what Thor called it. It was this big, metal monster that Thor's brother Loki sent to kill him. This used to be Isabella's diner," Jane pointed to the wrecked shell of a building whose glass they walked across. Her voice got softer. "I took Thor there for breakfast once. He smashed a mug on the floor because he wanted more coffee." A sad smile crossed her lips. She felt Fenris watching her now instead of the diner, so she cleared her throat and gazed out ahead. "I'm surprised that thing didn't take out the whole town. It looked like it was going to, before Thor…" Her throat closed. It didn't matter that he had come back to her after that beast had broken his neck. Thinking about it still made her sick.

Fenris carefully stepped around a bent chair that lay in his path.

"I assume you're not taking me to Isabella's, then," Fenris said darkly. Jane chuckled in spite of herself.

"No, we've got to go to the bar. It's the only other food place in town, besides the carry-out pizza place."

Fenris didn't comment—and it was only after she'd said all that that Jane realized he probably had no idea what a "diner" or a "bar" or a "pizza place" was. Mentally, she kicked herself, reminding herself to use plainer terms with him.

They walked in silence for the rest of the way, Fenris studying the almost tornadic damage all around him with furrowed brow. Jane took care not to walk too fast—she didn't want to wear him out. But his feet seemed steady enough, and he only pressed his hand to his chest twice.

Finally, they approached the front of the bar. It was a short, wooden building with neon advertisements in the darkened windows. She could smell the tang of barbeque cooking inside, and suddenly realized she hadn't eaten lunch. However, she hesitated as she put one foot up on the curb, and glanced back at Fenris. He stopped.

"What?" he said. She bit her lip.

"I didn't even think about your…I mean, your…" She gestured to his long green cape, armor, leather trousers and boots.

He smirked.

"I didn't either," he said, and strode up to the door and pushed it open. Startled, Jane followed him into the dimly-lit bar.

Jane blinked, trying to adjust her eyes as she came up beside Fenris. A sturdy, red-headed fifty-something woman with too much lipstick on, standing behind a podium stacked with menus, didn't look up from a list she was writing on—and she loudly chewed her gum.

"Are you guys gonna sit at the bar or at a booth?" she asked. Finally, she lifted her heavily made-up eyes to Fenris. Her mouth gapped open for a moment, and she glanced him up and down. Jane braced herself as the woman took a breath to make some comment…

And then Fenris took on such an icy expression that everyone's blood within ten feet froze. The woman swallowed her gum.

"Booth?" she squeaked. Fenris said nothing.

"Um, _yeah_. Thanks," Jane nodded quickly, trying to keep her voice from cracking. The lady snatched up two menus, eased around the podium and trotted to the booth nearest the door, then tossed the menus down.

"Your server will be with you in a sec," she said, and hurried back to her station. Jane eyed Fenris, but he didn't say anything—he just sat down on the other side of the wooden booth and slid in, draping his cape over the edge as if this was how he sat down to meals every day. Jane sat down across from him and put her purse on the floor.

"What was that?" she hissed, leaning forward. Fenris raised his eyebrows placidly and glanced down over the menus.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, resting his fingertips on the top of a menu.

"Yes you do," Jane protested. "You don't have to be mean."

His emerald eyes flicked up to hers. In the dim light of the hanging lamp, they glittered.

"I didn't say a word."

"You didn't have to," Jane said. His soft smirk came back—it irritated her. But before she could say anything, a tall, skinny young man with spiky dark hair and glasses came up holding a pencil and notepad. He looked nervously at Fenris, but Fenris had opened the menu and was studying it, so the kid swallowed and turned to Jane.

"What can I get you?" he asked.

"I'll have the Caesar salad and a side of buffalo wings," Jane said. "And a glass of water."

"And I will have this," Fenris said, pointing to the spot on the menu where the steaks were listed.

"How would you like your meat cooked?" the waiter asked as he finished scribbling Jane's order. Fenris glanced at Jane. She mentally winced, then took a guess.

"Rare," she said. The kid nodded.

"That comes with a salad and potatoes," the waiter told him. Fenris didn't say anything, and closed the menu.

"Oooh-kay," the waiter said, gathering up the menus. "We'll have that out as quick as we can." And he hurried off. Jane folded her arms and sat back. She narrowed her eyes at the one across from her.

"You're in a friendly mood."

Fenris rested his forearms on the table and folded his hands together.

"I am not aiming to expend energy at the moment," he said. "So forgive my lack of gab."

Jane took a deep breath, forcing herself to remember the state she'd found him in last night. In comparison, this was a huge improvement. She unfolded her arms, cupped her hands in her lap and glanced around the mostly-empty bar.

"I guess Erik took Thor here one night. Apparently, he can hold his liquor a lot better than Erik can." She couldn't stifle a smile—but when she looked back at Fenris, he was watching her with such intensity that it fell away. "What?" she demanded.

"I can't help but notice that you use the prince's given name," he said. "You had dealings with him while he was banished?"

Jane jolted.

"Oh my gosh," she gasped. "I've been wanting to ask you about that! Why was he banished—do you know?"

"Answer my question first," Fenris said, his voice low.

"Well—_yes_, yes I had dealings with him," Jane said. "Darcy, Erik and I were out in the country trying to observe an astronomical anomaly, and we came across Thor's…his _bridge_, or whatever you call it—and I hit him with my car."

Fenris' eyebrows went up, but he didn't interrupt. So Jane went on, ignoring her embarrassment.

"We took him to the hospital, and then he escaped, and we found him again and he came to our lab—and then he tried to get his hammer back," Jane said quickly. "But he couldn't. And then he told me that his father was dead, but that wasn't true. Which was proved when his friends came to find him. His friends from Asgard. And then that Destroyer came, and tore the town apart to find him, so he had to sacrifice himself for us. And he did. But then…Then, he…"

"He raised his hand and his hammer came to him," Fenris finished. "And lightning split the sky."

Jane hesitated, then nodded.

"Yes."

"How would he know whether or not his father was dead?" Fenris asked, tilting his head.

"Thor said his brother, Loki, came and told him that. Lied to him about it," Jane said. She glanced down and fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. "Broke his heart."

Fenris shifted, the skin around his eyes tightening.

"That still doesn't explain why you call him by his given name," he said, finally looking back at her.

"Well, we…We're friends," Jane said, but she felt herself blush. It got worse under Fenris' sharp scrutiny.

"Hm," was all he said, and his eyes narrowed for an instant. Jane felt herself go cold and then hot in a matter of seconds. Then, mercifully, the waiter came with her salad.

Her thoughts about Thor were interrupted during the next few minutes as the waiter scurried back and forth with her food and Fenris', and Fenris started to carve up his meat and eat.

"So are you going to answer _my _question?" Jane prodded. Fenris finished a bite, swallowed, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He rested his armor-bound wrists on the edge of the table, and gave her a hawk-like look.

"I will tell you, if you give your word that afterward, you will let me eat without interruption."

Annoyance flashed through her, but she gritted her teeth.

"Fine," she said. Fenris cleared his throat, then began putting butter on his potatoes.

"Apparently—for I can only give you the word that circulated through the palace," he began. "Prince Thor was angered by the fact that several Frost Giants from Jotunheim infiltrated the weapons vault and attempted to steal back their ancient weapon—an ice casket. They were stopped, but Prince Thor wanted to know why and how they had come. So, against the express command of his father the king, he took several of his friends and his brother Prince Loki, and made for Jotunheim. Apparently, the Giants gave him no information there—and in his frustration, Prince Thor started a fight. The All Father came to his sons' rescue, for they were vastly outnumbered, and took them all home. But not before Laufey, the king of the Frost Giants, promised retaliation." Fenris glanced up at her at last, emotionless. "So the All Father banished Prince Thor, for being reckless and foolish with other people's lives, and for seeking a war that could bring ruin to all the realms." He fell silent, held her gaze for a moment, then began eating his steak.

Jane stared at him.

"_What?"_

Fenris lifted his forefinger off his knife.

"You promised no interruptions."

"But that…that doesn't make any sense!" Jane cried. "Thor isn't like that—he's got more sense than to run into a situation like that and start a fight that could get innocent people killed. That's the _last _thing he would do." She shook her head. "No. You've got to have your information wrong."

Fenris' mouth made an almost ugly sneer.

"Perhaps I do," he muttered, and kept eating. Jane clenched her hands hard under the table.

"You said you were a guard on the bridge?"

He glanced up, and frowned.

"Yes…"

"So how do _you _know what goes on behind closed doors between a prince and his father?" Jane demanded. "You don't know any more than any of the other servants or subjects or whoever else lives there—"

"Is that what you think?" Fenris cut in. "Truly—that is what you think?"

"Yes, that's what I think," she snapped.

"Then Thor was banished for no reason at all," Fenris countered, eyes flashing. "In fact, he wasn't even banished—he was here on holiday."

"That's just stupid," Jane shot back. "He nearly _died _being—"

"_Crap!" _

Shadows swooped across their table as two heavy-set men stumbled—and one crashed all the way to the tile floor.

"Oh, my gosh—oh, my gosh, that was my purse," Jane gasped, reaching down to untangle her purse strap from the man's leathery boot heel. "I'm so sorry—"

The fallen man uttered a stream of obscenities and groans, and the other one staggered sideways, put his hand out and fell against the back of Fenris' booth. Fenris swallowed what he was eating, wiped his mouth again, then turned and watched them. Jane, meanwhile, with a heated face, managed to get her purse up off the floor. The fallen man dragged himself to his feet.

Both men stood over six feet tall, balding, they hadn't shaved their broad faces in a while, and they reeked of liquor.

"What the…What did I trip over?" the one with a darker beard slurred.

"I'm so sorry—it was my purse," Jane tried. "I left it out in the walkway—I'm so sorry."

"_Your _purse?" the man leaned toward her, peering at her with small dark eyes, his heavy, sweaty forehead wrinkling. "What the heck are you doing leaving it lying around so people can fall over it and break their necks?"

"You could hardly break your neck," Fenris scoffed. Both men swung around to gape at him.

"What'd he say, Chuck?" the first man asked.

"He said you couldn't break your neck on a purse," Chuck answered. The first man roared out another string of foul language and loomed over Jane.

"So you think that means it's okay for me to fall all over your crap?"

Jane started to sweat—but there was no escape. They both towered over her exit.

"Look, I wasn't trying to—"

"Bill, stop bothering my customers! You two have had too much to drink," the hostess called out, sounding a little desperate. "Why don't you guys go on home?"

"Shut up, Tracy," Chuck answered, glowering at Jane.

"I said I was sorry. Leave us alone," Jane said.

And Bill lashed out and grabbed Jane's hair at the back of her neck.

She yelped, snatching at her hair to pull it loose. Her heart banged in her ears.

Fenris leaned back into the booth, and gazed calmly up at Bill.

"Gentlemen, it's clear that neither of you realize how much your thinking has been muddled by drink," Fenris said smoothly. "But see if you can't wrap your little minds around this: You will release her hair this instant, _or_…" He smiled eerily, never moving his gaze. "You may use your imagination about what might happen to you next."

"Ha," Bill snorted. "You're going to go someplace with this, Tiny?"

Fenris spread his hands out, palms up.

"Last chance," he murmured. Bill jerked Jane's hair.

Fenris moved.

Chuck lashed out with his left hand. It clipped Fenris' chest.

He grabbed their bare forearms.

And they screamed.

A violent hiss issued from their skin where he clamped his fingers down—and Jane watched in fascinated horror as Fenris' hands turned _blue_—and their assailants' skin turned _black_.

The men writhed and wailed, trying to break loose, but Fenris held them tight. His jaw clenched and his eyes blazed.

Then, suddenly, he let them go. Bill's hand released Jane's hair, and both the men stumbled backward, cradling their arms and howling. They turned and barreled out of the bar.

The door slammed shut. Tracy, the waitress, gaped at them from a corner. Jane's eyes fixed on Fenris' hands—

As they slowly regained their usual color.

But his face did not. It went white.

Jane's questions died on her lips. Fenris drifted sideways and rested his shoulder on the back of the booth. His left hand came up to his chest.

"Are you okay?" Jane asked, getting up and coming around the table, feeling sick and a little shaken.

"That dog clipped me," Fenris said through his teeth, his eyelids fluttering.

"Are you all right?" Tracy asked, hurrying up to them. Jane's eyes widened—but then she realized that Tracy must not have been in a position to see what Fenris had done to the men's arms. Jane came around, trying to intercept a meeting between the hostess and Fenris—

"Thank you so much, Tracy," Fenris met her eyes and gave her a smile. "I'm afraid I've just aggravated a previous injury. Please forgive us for for all this commotion."

"No, _I'm _sorry," Tracy said, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. "Those guys only come in here once in a while, but when they do they're always looking for trouble." She gave Fenris a different, softer look. "I'm proud of you for standing up for your girl."

Jane flushed, feeling strange. Fenris only gave Tracy a kinder smile.

"I'd never hesitate."

Jane shot him a look. He straightened himself with effort.

"The food was delicious," he said. "But I'm afraid I'm not feeling well. Please excuse us."

"Do you need me to call the hospital?" Tracy asked.

"No, that's not necessary," Fenris shook his head. "But we'll be going."

Jane blinked, then realized what he meant. Quickly, she dug in her purse and put thirty dollars down on the table.

"If that isn't enough, Tracy, I'll come back tomorrow and pay it," Jane said, putting her purse strap over her shoulder.

"Wait, wait!" Tracy said, holding her hands up. "I'll get you to-go boxes and you can take your food with you."

"Um, okay…" Jane said, shooting an uneasy glance at Fenris, who now didn't look very well at all.

"That's kind of you, thank you," Fenris said quietly. Tracy looked at him sympathetically before hurrying to the back room. Jane edged closer to Fenris, watching him.

"You're friendly enough now," she noticed, searching his face. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and half smiled, but didn't say anything.

The next minute, Tracy came back and hurriedly put their food into the Styrofoam boxes, then put them in a bag for Jane to carry.

"Thanks so much," Jane said again. "And we're sorry for causing a scene."

"It wasn't you, honey," Tracy said. "And like I said, I'm the one who's sorry."

"Good night," Fenris nodded to her, and stepped out of the booth and up next to Jane. Together, they left the bar, Jane casting glances up at him all the time.

The street was dark now, and the town felt deserted. The only sounds were their footsteps and the swish of the plastic bag.

"Do you need help?" Jane asked him. His jaw tightened, and he shook his head.

They continued back to the lab very slowly, Fenris' right leg hitching once in a while, his eyes locked out in front of him. Jane's worry and frustration built, until, when they reached the lights of the lab, she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Okay, when we get inside," she said firmly. "You are taking off your armor and shirt and cape and stuff and I am going to look at what you did to yourself."

"It is only a bruise," Fenris said, approaching the door.

"Says you," Jane answered. "But it's been bothering you for almost two weeks now, and that's not okay with me."

Fenris' hand rested on the door handle and he turned his head to her.

"You can't do anything about it."

"Maybe I can!" Jane protested. "You never know. But that's the deal—end of discussion."

Fenris held her gaze for another moment, and Jane braced herself for another smooth-tongued excuse. But he didn't say anything. He just turned and pulled the door open, and she followed.

Fenris strode toward his couch, and as Jane watched, he took three deep breaths. Then, he held his hands out to the sides and in front of him, and then shook his arms as if he were shaking water off.

His bracers jingled, rattled—and then they fell into pieces and tumbled off. But before they hit the ground—

They disappeared.

He reached up and brushed his hands across his metal collar and his breastplate. They shattered too, fell, then vanished. His cape twisted, flapped, and in an eyeblink, evaporated.

Now, Fenris stood in a long-sleeved, high collared, intricately decorated, dark leather shirt, dark trousers and boots.

"What…What…Where did it go?" Jane gasped, waving weakly at him.

"I can conjure it if I need it back," Fenris answered.

"Like your blue hands?" Jane said. Fenris glanced at her for an instant, then sank down onto the couch. Jane stepped closer, letting that subject go for now, and setting the bag of food on the counter.

"Okay, off with the shirt," she said, trying to maintain a businesslike air. Fenris reached up to his collar, then paused. His jaw went tight, and he stared down at the coffee table.

"Look, I've seen what an Asgardian looks like with his shirt off," Jane teased, coming to sit next on his right side. "I'm braced."

Still, Fenris didn't move. He swallowed. Jane's smile faded as his fingers stayed hooked around his collar. Jane went still, suddenly sensing that she needed to stop pushing.

His brow tightened. For a moment, Jane thought he was going to refuse again. Then he reached up with his other hand too, and began unfastening his collar.

Slowly, he undid the front of his shirt, and began pulling it open. Wincing, he reached up with his left hand and pulled the shirt off his right shoulder, and withdrew his arm from the clothes. Then, the rest of the shirt fell down onto the couch, and he pulled the sleeve loose from his left hand.

Jane covered her lips with her fingers.

He was paler than Thor, leaner and muscular. But all along his shoulders, down the backs of his arms, and down his shoulder blades ran black branches of vein-like designs—designs that looked more like damage than tattoos. They also marked the back of his neck, and curled around his elbows. They did not touch his forearms, nor did they extend down to his waist or chest. Around his neck, he wore a short silver chain, and from it hung a small gold emblem—an emblem of Mjollnir, Thor's hammer.

"Does…Does that…hurt?" Jane's hand fluttered toward the marks on his shoulder before she pulled back. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, strands of his dark hair hanging down in his face.

"No, I've just been pretending to have broken ribs for my own amusement," Fenris muttered. It was only then that Jane's eyes flashed down to his right side to see a black, purple and green bruise the size of both her spread hands that wrapped around the right side of his ribcage.

"Oh, wow," she murmured. "Can you…Can you sit up?"

Fenris' jaw muscles worked, but he took a tight breath and did as she said. Jane bit her lip. She knew what she had to do next—she just needed to make herself.

"Okay, let me see…" she said, and reached out and slid her hand under his right elbow and lifted his arm. His skin shivered at her touch, like a horse's, and she felt him tense. He almost pulled away. But she tightened her grip, just a little, and at last he followed her lead and lifted his arm up and straightened it.

"All right, I will try to be gentle—you tell me what hurts," she said.

"All of it," he said, his black gaze still out in front of him.

"I mean, what hurts worst," she amended. Then she slid a bit closer to him, and laid her left hand on the bruise.

His whole body tightened. Jane kept her hand there, softening her touch. His smooth skin felt very hot there, his muscle swollen. Very slowly, she traced his ribs, pressing down very lightly with her fingertips.

Fenris suddenly hissed through his teeth. The arm she held twitched.

"Aha," Jane murmured. "Yep, right there. I felt it move." She lowered his arm, then let it slide out of her grasp. She sighed and studied the bruise. "There isn't a lot to do for broken ribs—no cast or anything—but I think ice might help the swelling and pain. And I'll give you some more medicine."

He just cleared his throat, and wouldn't look at her. She watched him. It wasn't his injury, then. She hesitated, then tucked her foot under her and turned toward him.

"What happened here?" she asked quietly. "To your back and shoulders?"

He cleared his throat again, and started rubbing a long, thin scar on the thumb of his left hand.

"There's a type of snake in Asgard," he said, his voice uneven. "Its venom does this to your skin. The mark never goes away."

A chilled feeling started in Jane's stomach, and a frown came over her. But then he glanced at her and almost smiled, though his look was cold.

"It's the same snake whose venom was used to punish Prince Loki," he said. "I believe your friend mentioned it in that lovely ballad."

Jane swallowed and ducked her head. Fenris took a breath.

"When I was young, my brother and I were out exploring a portion of the mountains we had never seen—a portion that our father had told us _not _to go near. I was worried we would get into trouble, but my brother never minded that. I didn't want him to go alone, so I trailed after." He sighed. "We were near some caverns, and the ground was very unstable. I put my foot in the wrong place and fell through, down into a pit. It was then that our father called our names." Fenris' hands went still, and he laced his fingers. "Father was still a long way off, and could only see my brother. So my brother, trying to keep me from getting in trouble, said he would pretend as if I had not been there, and he would return for me later. He left with my father." Fenris' face tightened, his gaze on the stacks of books. "I waited for hours, with no way of getting out. It got dark. And then the snake came. It bit my hand." He lifted his left hand, and closed it to a fist, then took another breath. "I think I would have rather just gotten in trouble."

Jane was quiet for a long moment, running her eyes over the black trails on his skin, trying not to imagine how painful it must have been.

"I'm sure your brother didn't mean for that to happen," Jane finally managed. He lifted an eyebrow and smirked, shrugging once.

"The road to Helheim is paved with good intentions," he whispered. Then his gaze drifted off, and grew distant, as if he was looking somewhere else entirely. Jane fell silent, something behind her breastbone starting to ache. She wanted to ask him so many things: more about Asgard, the way his hands had turned color, the reason he wore Mjollnir around his neck…

But she could see how weary he'd suddenly gotten, as if a weight had just set down on his shoulders. She couldn't make herself prod him anymore.

Then, a voice that sounded very like her mother's whispered to the back of her mind, and she canted her head.

"I think you should take a shower."

Fenris didn't turn, but a line appeared between his eyebrows. Jane nodded in decision.

"I think it would feel good on your muscles, and get you clean besides. You'll sleep better."

Fenris didn't say anything. Jane stood up.

"Come on. I'll show you how the hot and cold water works, and while you're washing, I'll get a wrap ready for you—I think I have some frozen corn and an ace bandage that should work—oh, and that painkiller too. And I'll heat up our food so we can actually eat. Okay?" Jane gave him a bright look, hoping to lift him a bit.

Fenris cast his gaze down again, and his mouth tightened. Then, he got to his feet, picked up his shirt, and followed her wordlessly back toward the washroom.

LLLLL

Loki braced one hand against the cool tile wall of the small shower, leaned forward, and let the steaming water wash over his head and shoulders, drip down his face and race down his arms, back and chest. It carried the dirt and grime from his crash with it. But, as with every time he washed, the water stung those old poison trails—and now it also heated and nipped his bruise.

Yes, a snake had bitten him when he was a boy. But it was not the one that had left these marks.

His throat galled, and he choked. He closed his wet hand into a fist, and shut his eyes.

The Cube thrummed, far away, but just next to his heart. He could feel its power—its immeasurable potential, like a presence in the next room. And he knew that if he could only touch it, hold it in his hands, he could harness all it had.

He gritted his teeth, wishing his mortification could wash away with the dirt. Wishing he could wash the stinging memory away too.

His stomach tightened. It wouldn't—not as things stood now.

But if he had that Cube when he returned to Asgard…

He lifted his face, taking a deep breath of steam.

He would stay here, and listen, until he was completely healed. Then he would move—and none of them would see it coming.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Please leave a review! I love them! :D_


	8. Chapter 8

_Ah, your reviews are priceless to me! I so look forward to reading them every time I post! You are all brilliant—keep it up. And enjoy!_

_The riddles in this portion are from the Book of Exeter._

_LLLLL_

"A shapeless piece of steel—

That's all I claim to be.

This hammer pounds

To give me form

This flame, it melts my dreams.

I glow with fire and fury

As I'm twisted like a vine.

My final shape, my final form

I'm sure I'm bound to find.

So dream a little,

Dream for me

In hopes that I'll remain.

And cry a little,

Cry for me

So I can bear the flames.

And hurt a little,

Hurt for me

My future is untold

But my dreams are not the issue here

For they

The hammer holds."

-_The Hammer Holds_

CHAPTER EIGHT

_"Loki? Loki!" _

_ Loki shot into a sitting position, then thrashed against the heavy covers that entangled him. _

_ "Wh-What?" he gasped. He peered over the pile of covers, through the dark room, to the crack in the giant door. He blinked a few times, then finally focused on the little blonde boy who stood in the gap, his nightgown trailing on the floor. _

_ "What are you doing in Mother and Father's bed?" Thor demanded in a whisper. Loki rubbed his eyes with both hands, then frowned at his brother. _

_ "It's thundering."_

_Thor snorted._

_ "You're afraid of thunder?"_

_ "Are you?" Loki shot back. _

_ "Ha—No."_

_ "Then why are _you _here?"_

_ "I came to see how Mother is," Thor said defensively, then glanced around. "But…maybe she's still upstairs with the healers. You think Father's with her?"_

_ "Probably," Loki said. Thor nodded, then lowered his head. Loki hesitated._

_ "Want to wait with me till he comes back?"_

_ "Yes!" Thor said, and darted in, his little feet padding on the carpet, and then he clambered up on the bed next to Loki. Though Thor was bigger than his brother, the bed still dwarfed both boys. Thor flopped back onto the massive pillows and let out a huge sigh, staring up at the ceiling. Loki leaned back onto a similar fluffy pillow and glanced over at him—he could still see him by the light from the hallway. _

_ "I don't remember _you _being born," Loki remarked. Thor rolled his eyes._

_ "That's because I was born before you." _

_ Loki frowned._

_ "So you remember _me _being born?" he said._

_ Thor stopped, then pursed his lips._

_ "No. I don't ever remember you _not _being born." _

_ "Maybe we're twins," Loki mused._

_ "We're not twins," Thor said. "We don't look anything alike."_

_ "Oh," Loki said softly. Thor rolled over onto his side and thumped the pillow with his fist._

_ "Boy or a girl?"_

_ "Huh?" Loki shot him a look. He could only see half of Thor's face now—his blue eyes looked very awake._

_ "Will Mother have a boy or a girl?" Thor clarified._

_ Loki thought for a moment._

_ "Boy."_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Because we're boys—she likes boys," Loki reasoned. _

_ "I hope so," Thor sighed. "I don't want a stupid girl following us around."_

_ They were quiet for a troubled moment._

_ "I heard them talking about a name," Loki said._

_ "What name?"_

_ "Balder."_

_ "What does that mean?"_

_ "Something pretty. Like flowers or summer or something," Loki told him._

_ "Ugh," Thor grunted. "It must be a girl, then."_

_ They both groaned in despair. Their troubled silence got worse._

_ "I wonder if they'll change our places," Loki murmured._

_ "Hm?"_

_ "Around the table," Loki said, watching Thor. "I wonder if they'll move me down, or across the table, or—"_

_ Thor was already shaking his head hard._

_ "No, no, no," he insisted. "No. You sit next to me. Forever. Promise," Thor reached over and patted Loki's head. Loki sighed, relieved._

_ "Good," Loki murmured. _

_ "Father will be back soon," Thor said._

_ "Mhum."_

_ "I'm going to close my eyes for a little bit."_

_ "Me too," Loki whispered. _

_And though they both fought it valiantly, it was only a matter of moments before they both drifted off to sleep in their parents' soft, wide bed. _

_LLLL_

Loki's eyes opened. He stared at the black ceiling above him. All was quiet. That same little light was on near the counter. And he was not alone.

He sucked in a breath and quickly looked to his right.

Erik sat there on a chair about ten feet away, half in shadow, his hands folded in his lap. He was watching him.

Gritting his teeth, Loki made himself sit up and put his feet on the floor, despite the pangs in his midsection. Once he had settled, he looked at Erik sideways.

"Can I be of service?"

Erik did not answer for a long time. His blue eyes glimmered in the dim light.

"I'm not exactly sure who you are, or what you are," he said, his voice low. "But I admit I had the same feeling about you as I had about Thor when he arrived."

Loki raised his eyebrows.

"And what was that?"

"I told him to leave town," Erik answered. Loki felt a flicker of amusement—he tried to keep it from his face.

"That was before I knew he was the 'god of thunder,'" Erik said, shifting in his chair. "And that he was the key to everything Jane has been researching for the past ten years. But I even after that, I wasn't sure he was the best thing for her. I'm still not sure."

Loki tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he listened. Erik did not break the gaze.

"I know you're injured," Erik said, his voice low. "But I also know you're from Asgard, and that you probably have abilities we little mortals can't even imagine. And I heard about what you did to those guys in the bar."

Loki darkened as he realized where this was going. A half remembered threat rang through his head—one he recalled through a haze of pain and tears as he stood inside the bifrost room, clenching the All Father's staff in his hands—as Thor looked back at him with stricken eyes.

Loki swallowed, now feeling a ghost of Jane's hand against his bruise.

"I am not going to hurt her."

As the words left his mouth, he discovered he did not know when exactly he had decided that. But it was true, nevertheless.

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear," Erik said, lifting his chin. His eyes narrowed. "Now let mebe clear: if it were up to me, you'd be in that bunker with the Cube. Instead, you are here, enjoying our protection and hospitality, because of Jane. And she is dedicating a great deal of her thoughts and efforts to figuring out a way to reopen the gate to Asgard—which can be nothing but a benefit to you." He paused, and lifted his eyebrows. "Which is why I assume you have stayed here this long."

Loki said nothing, and glanced down at his folded hands.

"In return for all that, I want you to be helpful to her," Erik said.

Loki's eyes flashed up to him.

"I don't know anything about rebuilding the bridge," he said, frowning.

"Yes, but you know about Asgard, and interstellar travel, and the space-time continuum," Erik countered, leaning forward. "Things Jane has been dying to understand since she was a little girl. So if she asks you anything about those subjects, I want you to answer as best you can."

Loki paused, studying him.

"I assume you are going to present me with some sort of consequence if I don't feel so inclined," he said, lowering his head but keeping eye-contact.

"Well, there's such a thing as a worn-out welcome," Erik gave him a cold half-smile. "But I trust it won't come to that."

Loki smiled crookedly.

"One can only hope."

"We have an understanding, then?" Erik asked. Loki paused, but he knew he had no choice.

"We do indeed."

"Glad to hear it," Erik nodded, and got up. "Goodnight."

Loki watched him as he walked to the door, opened it and left, then tugged on it to make certain it was locked. Loki's gaze unfocused.

_"What is it, brother, that has made you so…soft? Don't tell me it was that woman!"_

Loki swallowed hard again, beating back those images, and made himself lie down again.

LLLLLLLLL

"What have you been doing, Erik?" Jane asked as she strolled over to the long table with an armful of rolled-up star charts. It was the next evening, and Jane and Erik had spent the morning at the bunker, analyzing the Cube's "hum." When they'd come back, Erik had retired to his trailer again, leaving Jane alone with Fenris in the lab—Fenris had spent most of his time being silent and reading _The Fellowship_.

Erik now came inside with a cup of coffee, and smiled at her.

"Doing a little research. Came in to warm up my coffee," Erik answered, waving a thick book. "I'm refreshing my memory concerning the Norse myths—mostly because they don't appear to be myths, anymore." He sighed and sat at the long table as Jane set the star charts down and started to spread them out.

"What are _you _doing?" Erik asked.

"There's going to be a spectacular meteor shower soon—next week, probably on Thursday morning, at about two or three," she answered.

"Will we be able to see it?" Erik asked, leaning forward.

"Yes!" Jane smiled. "It'll be right over us. I can't believe our luck. I'm going to call Darcy and see if she can come back—just for that night if nothing else."

"Speaking of that," Erik said. "Where is Fenris?"

"I think he went to the roof," Jane muttered, ignoring the sinking in her stomach. Fenris hadn't said a word to her all day, and her worry for him had recommenced. She started putting paperweights on the corners of her charts.

"I could do with a good meteor shower—something nice and normal and terrestrial," Erik commented. Jane gave a crooked smile.

"Me, too. I need a little distraction."

Erik took a sip of coffee, then considered her.

"Why—is something bothering you?" Erik asked.

"Not really bothering," Jane said, sitting down and taking out her silver pen. "Teasing me."

Erik cocked his head and looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I've just been wondering…" Jane said, meeting his eyes and holding the pen between both hands. "With the data we've been gathering, and what we've been learning about this Cube…It seems like it might have something to do with manipulating space and time."

Erik waited. Jane took a breath, and her heart fluttered.

"Erik," she whispered. "What if _it _could re-open the gate to Asgard?"

Erik blinked, and his eyebrows raised.

"That's quite a leap, Jane—"

"Yes, but it's a possibility!" Jane said. "And if so, can you imagine what that would mean? It could mean the exchange of information about the galaxy, the universe, with people who have been traveling through the stars for thousands of years! We could learn about their history, their technology—how they've managed to live so long! It would open up millions of doors for us, not to mention—"

"You'd get to see Thor again," Erik smiled. Jane's heart staggered. Suddenly, her reasons didn't seem as clean-cut as that.

"Yeah, well, that would be a nice side-effect," she conceded, looking back at the charts. Erik chuckled.

"Well, it's a fine goal—learning from the people of Asgard, I mean. Probably a lot finer than the others people will come up with."

"I don't even want to think about what _other _plans people will come up with," Jane muttered, sitting down and pulling the cap off her pen.

"Me either," Erik admitted, getting up and heading to the coffee pot.

Jane studied trajectories and marked up her star charts for several minutes, while the coffee brewed and the earthy scent of it filled the lab.

"I miss Darcy," Jane finally sighed, circling three stars. "I never thought I'd say that, but it's true."

"I do, too," Erik poured himself more coffee. "She has a way of putting things that makes you look at facts from an entirely different perspective."

Jane laughed. Erik came up holding two cups of coffee. He set one down next to her.

"It's kind of chilly outside," he said, pushing the cup to her. She looked at it, then narrowed her eyes up at him.

"You mean you want me to…" She lifted a finger upward. He shrugged, then came back around the table and sat down. Jane eyed him, unsure and hopeful at the same time.

"You were scared to let me ride in a car with Thor, and you were afraid Fenris might punch me in his sleep because of his 'defense reflexes,' but _now _you want me to go take coffee to—"

"Nobody who protects you from thugs in a bar is going to hurt you," Erik said flatly.

"Erik," Jane said pointedly. "His gave those men _frostbite._"

"So what?" Erik countered. "Thor can fly and throw lightning around."

"But—"

"And who knows what other powers these individual Asgardians have," he said. "I would imagine both Thor and Fenris have more abilities than you've seen. And Fenris might just tell you about them."

Jane sat there for a moment, trying to decipher if he was really serious. But then she saw his eyes twinkle, and something in her heart lifted.

"Now go take him some coffee before he freezes," Erik said. Jane rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she muttered, hiding a smile as she picked up the coffee and left.

She headed to the back of the lab, out of the bright light and into the corner, where the narrow metal staircase lead up to the shaft and landing where the door to the roof was. Her feet clanged on the steps. Careful not to spill the coffee, she reached the top and worked the creaky handle , then pushed open the groaning door. The cool night wind hit her—she winced. It really was chilly.

The blue neon lights from the center pole in the roof lit up the "ground" enough so she could see, and then she caught sight of a fire flickering in the pit, and Fenris sitting on one of the lawn chairs, his back to her. She hesitated.

"Okay, Erik," she whispered. "You trust him, I'll trust him." And she started toward him again.

LLLL

Loki straightened, just a little, as he heard footsteps behind him. His mouth hardened. It was Jane. She was carrying something—and she was a little uncertain.

Loki had become an expert at identifying Erik, Darcy and Jane's different walks during his days and weeks of captivity. He could even tell what mood they were in by the rhythm of their gaits. However, Darcy had departed a few days past, which in turn had made Jane's steps more subdued.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jane coming up to his right side. She wore knee-high boots, dark blue trousers and a loose beige sweater. She sat down on the other cushioned chair, a ceramic cup held in both graceful hands. Loki tried not to shift away from her as his stomach tensed. He could still feel the way her eyes had fixed on his Frost Giant hands…and drifted over the scars on his back…

"It's cold out here," Jane said. "Would you like some coffee?" She held out the cup to him. He hesitated a moment, then slowly reached out and took it, careful not to touch her. He held it in both hands.

"Thor liked it," Jane added. Loki's fingers twitched. That by itself made him want to throw it over the edge. But he remembered Erik's warning—and it did warm his hands—so he kept hold of it, with no plans to put it to his lips.

"Thank you," he said, hopefully quick enough so that it did not sound like an afterthought. He glanced down at the steaming black liquid, and braced himself for her barrage of questions about his hands, his scars, his necklace—

"There's going to be a meteor shower next week, early Thursday morning," Jane said, rubbing her hands together on her lap. Loki, startled, brought his head up and frowned at her.

"You do know what a meteor shower is," Jane asked, her bright brown eyes watching his. He shrugged, switching trains of thought.

"I don't know," he managed. "It's possible we call it something else."

"A meteor is a piece of falling rock," she explained. "And when there's a shower of them, it's because several rocks whose orbits have decayed hit the atmosphere and catch on fire. They look like falling stars."

"Hm," Loki glanced up at the dark sky. "I don't believe I've seen anything like that."

"Really?" Jane sounded surprised. "There aren't meteor showers on Asgard?"

Ah. There it was. She wanted to know about _Asgard._

"If something like that happened in Asgard," Loki muttered, running his thumb across the cup handle. "It would be far worse than falling rocks."

Loki waited for her to follow that subject. Instead, she fell silent.

And then a strand of hair fell across her face, and she smiled to herself as she tucked it behind her ear. He canted his head at her. He had not expected that expression.

"What?" he wondered.

"Nothing. I just thought of something," she chuckled, then looked at him again. "Since you've been here, you and I have been acting and talking like we already know each other—probably because you were hurt, and then the Cube thing happened…But we don't." She shrugged, then gave him a puzzled look. "I'm not even sure how you knew my name."

"I may have heard Darcy say it," Loki lied, thrown. Jane watched him another moment, her smile softening. Then, she held out her hand.

"I'm Jane Foster, daughter of John and Emily."

Loki stared at her delicate hand, his throat going tight. After what she had just seen in the tavern, she still wanted to make contact with the skin of his hands?

She waited, her aspect mild and quiet. Loki swallowed, put his coffee cup down, then hesitantly took up her hand. She didn't withdraw. So he pressed his lips to the backs of her warm fingers. As he did, he kept his eyes on hers. They didn't waver. A moment later, he pulled back.

"It is an honor," he said quietly, scrutinizing her face for a reaction. But she merely smiled, her long-lashed eyes glancing down. Her soft fingers slid out of his and she tucked her hair back again. Loki's first reflex was a frown—and then his scrutiny sharpened. Had she expected that?

"I…suppose you wish me to tell you about Asgard," he ventured, sitting back up, though he suddenly felt as if he was in strange waters.

"Oh, not really," Jane sighed, leaning sideways into the back of her chair and looking up at the stars. "I feel like I haven't let myself take break from work for a while. I come up here to escape."

Loki lifted an eyebrow.

"You get tired of thinking about stars, so you come up here and look at stars?"

The edge of her mouth quirked, and she rested her head back on the cushion.

"It's different up here," she said. "Quieter. I can look at the stars and think about how pretty they are, instead of analyzing the Pleiades or watching for something to show up right next to Taurus, or plotting the path Orion is taking. It's just the sky. Not a problem I have to solve."

Loki thought for a long moment as he observed her, the glow of the fire softening all her features, how her dark eyebrows delicately graced her brilliant eyes, and the way one thumb always ran up and down the other.

"You like solving problems, though," Loki realized. Her eyes flicked to him, and she gave a reflexive smile.

"I don't know if _like _is the word. But I do have a penchant for finding problems and not giving up until I work them out."

"I don't suppose you're any good at riddles, then," Loki rubbed his fingertips together, watching their motion.

"I can work anything out if it makes sense," Jane stated.

The corner of Loki's mouth lifted. He could not help it.

"Interesting," Loki shifted so he faced her more fully, and folded his hands. "I take that as a challenge."

Her eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm by nature solitary, scarred by iron," Loki began slowly, purposefully.  
"And wounded by sword, weary of battle.  
I often see the face of war, and fight  
hateful enemies; yet I hold no hope  
of help being brought to me in battle  
before I'm cut to pieces and perish.  
At the city wall sharp-edged sword,  
skillfully forged in the flames by smiths,  
bite deeply into me. I must await  
a more fearsome encounter; it is not for me  
to find a physician on the battlefield,  
one of those men who heals wounds with herbs.  
My sword wounds gape wide and wider;  
death blows are dealt me by day and by night.'"

Jane watched him as he spoke, her gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth. She was

listening hard. Then, when he stopped, she thought for a long moment, her attention drifting down. Her thumb rubbed the inside of her other forefinger, now.

"I often see the face of war…" she murmured. "I hold no hope of help…my sword wounds gape…" Her eyes flashed to his. "It's a shield."

Loki sat up, surprised.

"That was quick of you."

Jane shrugged, and smirked good-naturedly.

"I must think of a better one," Loki said.

"That isn't fair," Jane protested. "It's my turn."

"Oh—I defy you to give me a riddle I don't already know."

"Fine," Jane said, sitting up again and facing him completely. She snapped her fingers as she thought. "Um…Okay, I have one. 'Here is a miracle: water turns to bone.'"

"Ice. Anything else?" Loki shot back. Her mouth fell open.

"Don't tell me that was your best," Loki teased. She laughed.

"Off the top of my head, yes!"

"Very well, here's another, off the top of _my _head," Loki said. "'Wob is my name, if you work it out;  
I'm a fair creature fashioned for battle.  
When I bend, and shoot a deadly shaft  
from my stomach, I'm very eager  
to send that evil as far away as I can.  
When my lord (he thought up this torment)  
releases my limbs, I become longer  
and, bent upon slaughter, spit out  
that deadly poison I swallowed before.  
No man's parted easily from the object  
I describe; if what flies from my stomach  
strikes him, he pays for its poison  
with his strength - speedy atonement for his life.  
I'll serve no master when unstrung, only when  
I'm cunningly notched.'" Loki lifted a finger and pointed at her. "'Now guess my name.'"

"Did you say something about bending, and shooting a shaft?" Jane asked brow

furrowed.

"I'll not give you any hints," Loki shook his head once.

"You _did_ say bending and shooting," Jane said. "And Wob…It's 'bow' backward. So it's

a bow."

Loki had to stifle a smile this time.

"Your intellect dizzies me, little mortal."

She shook a finger at him.

"Don't underestimate me. I'm smarter than I look."

Something like a laugh nearly made it to his breastbone, but not quite. Instead, he gave

her a solemn stare.

"Very well. I am ready for whatever puzzle you throw at me. I can only pray my mind can fathom it."

Jane gave him a narrow look, but couldn't hide the smile from her eyes. Loki's alertness flared—she was suddenly very confident.

"'A box without hinges, key or lid,'" she said slowly.  
Yet golden treasure inside is hid.'"

Loki paused. His eyes narrowed for an instant, and he looked at her sideways.

"Is it not…some sort of nut?"

Jane grinned, then glanced up and away.

"No hints."

Loki sat forward and put a finger over his lips.

"Golden treasure. So it's not a chestnut or walnut," he murmured. "Or perhaps a

geode…though that is not golden, either." He thought in silence for a moment. He huffed and sat back. "Erm…" His eyebrows went up. "I'm not…"

Jane watched him in amusement.

It clicked. He leveled a gaze at her.

"It is an egg," he declared. She inclined her head to him.

"Very good, sir," she said.

"You didn't invent that one," he accused.

"No, I didn't, actually," Jane confessed. "It's from The Hobbit."

"Which Hobbit?" Loki asked.

"No, _The Hobbit_—it's a book. It comes before _The Fellowship."_

"There is a book before _The Fellowship_," Loki said flatly. "That would have been helpful to know."

Jane giggled again, spreading her hands out.

"I'm sorry—I think I actually have it somewhere. You can read it if you want."

"Out of order. Brilliant," he muttered, but he couldn't force any malice. He then turned and leaned back in his own cushion, turning his glance upward. "Now, do forgive me, but my curiosity is going to kill me soon if I don't ask you what in the universe is a Pleiades."

"Oh!" Jane turned too, and pointed upward. "I don't know if you can…Well, maybe you can see where I'm pointing, but…Pleiades means 'seven sisters,' and it's an open star cluster of B-type stars. B-type means that they're blue. The Pleiades is right in the middle of the Taurus constellation, and it's one of the nearest star clusters to Earth…"

LLLL

Erik crept up the stairs, then pushed gently on the door to the roof, careful not to let it grind on its hinges. He stopped before it was all the way open, then leaned his head out.

Jane sat out there on a lawn chair, Fenris beside her on his own. A fire flickered before them, the smoke rising into the cool night air. Erik expected to hear Fenris speaking, telling her about the realm of Asgard. Instead, what he overheard caught him off guard.

"Orion is a hunter, see," Jane was explaining, pointing to the sky. "See, there's his belt, and his sword hanging from it."

"I can see that. And is he holding up his right arm?" Fenris asked.

"Yes, with a club in his hand," Jane nodded. "And over here is the Eridanus river, and he has his two dogs, Canis Major and Canis Minor, and together they're fighting Tarus."

"The bull."

"Yes. And see the star in the middle of the sword?"

"Yes."

"It's actually the Orion Nebula."

"Really."

"Yes, though it's hard to see that without a telescope…"

Erik watched them for a long moment—watched as Jane talked about the stars as he had never heard her speak of them before: as if they were people in stories, rather than burning orbs of gas. And he watched Fenris watch _her_. Yes, the Asgardian looked where she directed, and commented accurately. But in between her direction, Fenris watched Jane—watched her every expression, studied her face, and listened to her voice.

Erik felt a small smile begin on his lips, and he retreated silently back down the stairs, so that they never knew he had been there.

TBC

_Please review, dear ones! I must know you are liking! :):)_


	9. Chapter 9

_Hello, dear ones! No, I did not forget you—but I did go on a little trip that was devoid of access to the internet! Luckily, however, I was able to write a little while I was gone, so I have a chapter for you! Please let me know if you enjoy by leaving a little review! :D Thanks!_

_LLLLLLLLL_

CHAPTER NINE

"I sit beside the fire and think

Of how the world will be

When winter comes without a spring

That I shall never see.

For still there are so many things

That I have never seen:

In every wood in every spring

There is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think

Of people long ago,

And people who will see a world

That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think

Of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet

And voices at the door."

-The Fellowship of the Ring

_"Now watch this Father—watch closely…"_

_"Loki, I'm very busy at the moment—"_

_"It will only _take_ a moment," Loki assured his father, anxiously trying to catch his eye. Loki had stood for an hour outside the throne room, waiting for his father to finish mediating a case between two feuding landlords. Loki wore his best: a long, deep purple tunic and trousers and polished black boots—all of which his mother had given him for his latest birthday—the last birthday he would have before he came of age. _

_Now, he stood just to his father's left as Odin sat on his throne, parchment documents spread out on his lap. _

_"All right, Loki—what is it?" Odin asked, lifting his eye from one of the papers and turning to Loki. _

_"Watch," Loki instructed. He held out his hands in front of him, his left hand hovering over his right. Then, he reached down deep inside him, took a breath, and moved his hands._

_A subtle blue flash issued between his palms, and the tingling shiver of energy radiated through his fingertips. Then, a jeweled silver goblet materialized in the air, and floated down into Loki's grasp._

_"That's my wedding goblet," Odin observed._

_"Yes—but see how I can hide it?" Loki said, flicking his hands again—and the goblet disappeared. _

_"That's very impressive, Loki," Odin nodded, smiling. _

_"I've been working at it all week," Loki told him, feeling a swell of pride. "So if you ever need anything important kept out of sight—and I mean _completely _out of sight—just call me, and I can—"_

_"Father!" The bellow rang through the great hall. Loki spun, his eyes flashing to the entrance. _

_Burly Thor, wearing only his trousers, and covered with dirt and sweat, raced to the head of the hall, hefting his hammer over his head._

_"It flew!" he roared, beaming, his eyes bright. "Mjollnir flew and came back to my hand! Did you hear it?"_

_"It did?" Odin cried, quickly gathering up the papers and setting them aside. "It came back to your hand?_

_"Yes!" Thor crowed. "Come quick! Come see!"_

_"I'm coming, I'm coming," Odin laughed, trotting down the stairs and hurrying up the hall. "Before you know it, you'll be calling lightning down—be sure to tell me before you try _that_—I must come watch!" _

_"Hurry up, hurry up!" Thor complained, and turned back around and raced outside. _

_Loki stood beside the throne for a long time after the hall had fallen silent. Then, he held out his hands, both palms up, and re-conjured the silver goblet. He held it for a moment, studying it as it glinted in the light. Then he set it down on the throne and left, his footsteps echoing on the stone._

_LLLLLL_

The warm, late afternoon wind blew over the sparse red hills, and the cloudless sky appeared limitless, the sunbeams reaching from horizon to horizon. Jane only had a light jacket on, and jeans, and that was enough to keep her warm—her boots scraped on the sand of the country road. She glanced over at Fenris, who walked to her left. He wore his own boots, but loose-fitting jeans, a black collared shirt, and a leather jacket. He kicked a rock ahead of them, his hands in his pockets.

"I'm glad you finally let me give you some different clothes," Jane commented. "You have to be more comfortable now."

"Comfortable, yes," he answered. "At ease? No."

"Oh, come on…" Jane sighed.

"I cannot summon my armor without that tunic—I told you that," he answered, giving her a pointed glance.

"_Thor's_ armor came to him when he was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans," Jane countered.

"Yes, but Prince _Thor's_ power had been taken from him," Fenris pointed at her. "And then it was returned. Which is entirely different."

"But why would you need armor out here anyway?" Jane gestured to the broad nothing all around them. "What are you expecting to happen?"

He shot her a disapproving look.

"Armor is a preemptive measure," he answered. "Because you don't _know _what could happen."

"I've survived all my life without magic armor," Jane muttered.

"I am actually amazed at that," he said, watching the road ahead. Jane stopped a moment, then decided that he was teasing her and smiled to herself.

They walked a little further in silence, Fenris sometimes casting glances straight up, but mostly studying the horizon.

"How are you feeling?" Jane asked.

He glanced at her, then considered as he raised his right shoulder.

"A bit sore. But it's not as painful. I can sleep easier."

"Good. Has the bruising gone down?"

"A little," he nodded. Jane studied him a moment, remembering how his shoulders had looked…

"Speaking of that," she began. He tensed, and cast his gaze down. She hesitated.

"Tell me about your necklace," she said instead. Fenris lifted his face to her, and she could actually see the silver chain and gold pendant glitter against the pale skin of his neck, beneath his open collar. His mouth twitched.

"It's not very exciting."

"I'm interested," Jane said. He gave her another sideways look, then focused on the road.

"My brother and I had just come of age, and we'd also been declared masters of our chosen weapons," he said, resigned. "My brother wanted to test out our skills against a fierce clan of Midgardian dwarves. I—"

"Dwarves?" Jane interrupted.

"Yes," he frowned at her. "You know…Shorter, burly men with thick beards who work with metal and dig in mines…"

"You mean in fairytales?"

"No, they're not fairies, they're dwarves."

"No, I mean…I mean in legends. Myths," she clarified. He lifted an eyebrow.

"They are mentioned quite often in _The Fellowship_."

"That's fiction," Jane said. "It isn't real."

Fenris stopped walking, turned and looked at her.

"It isn't a history of Middle Earth—of Midgard?"

Jane's eyebrows went up.

"No," she shook her head. "No, the author, Tolkien, invented it all."

Fenris stood there a moment.

"Jane," he said seriously. "It's irresponsible for you not to tell me what it is I am reading before I read it."

Jane tried not to smile. She didn't succeed. Something in his eyes sparked for a moment, and the corner of his mouth lifted. Then, he turned and started walking again.

"Nevertheless, dwarves exist—or at least, they _did_—and my brother and I wished to pay them a visit," he went on. "I admit I was just as willing as he, because life had been slow and rather boring of late," he began. "We wanted to retrieve a relic that had been lost long ago during a royal visit to Midgard—these dwarves had taken it for their own, and pulled it deep into the mountains. So, we two, without telling our parents, left for Midgard and sought them out." He ran his hand through his thick black hair. "To make a very long story short, we underestimated their numbers. Though we did snatch the relic—_I _snatched the relic—we were caught, and we had to fight our way out. I got free, but my brother had let himself get cornered, his weapon tied up. It was then that the ground gave way and he fell. I managed to get through to him and catch him up by the wrist, then cast an illusion around us that muddled the dwarves' senses. We climbed back up, broke free, and hurried back to the bridge, and returned safely to Asgard." Fenris sighed. "At first, we were soundly scolded. But when we presented the old relic, our actions were pardoned, and our father threw us a feast. At the feast, my brother presented me with this necklace—he put it on me himself. And the necklace does not come off. It can't. It's bound on with a magic even I don't understand," he said, meeting Jane's eyes. Jane thought for a moment.

"What did your brother say to you?"

His eyes flickered, and he turned back to the road.

"I can't remember." He reached up and tugged lightly on the chain. "But I do know that there have been a few times of late that I wish I could get it off."

Jane's heart frowned at that, but she sensed that he would not want to answer her questions about it right now. So she chose a surface subject.

"It's Mjollnir, right? The necklace?"

Fenris shot her a startled look, then narrowed his eyes.

"You remember its name?"

She smirked a little.

"It kind of made an impression on me."

Fenris' look darkened as he faced forward.

"Yes, it's Mjollnir."

"So does it mean something? That emblem?" she asked. Fenris sighed.

"I suppose in Midgard it would have some sort of religious meaning—since the fools thought we were gods—"

"They weren't fools," Jane protested. "That's a legitimate assumption, considering how you guys appear and disappear, and call down lightning and—"

"We aren't gods, Jane," he interrupted. "We can die, either by very old age, or by wounding. We know we aren't gods—and we know who is."

Jane blinked in surprise. The glance he gave her was slightly secretive.

"We don't speak his name," he said. "But his symbol marks everything of ours—even the hammer that interests you so much." He stopped, and drew a symbol in the dirt—one that looked, to Jane, much like a Celtic trinity knot.

"That…I know that symbol. We use it here, too," she said.

"Do you have a name for him?" Fenris asked.

"Well…" Jane struggled. "God."

Fenris almost smiled. Then, without voicing his thoughts, he turned around and started walking back the way they had come. A little flustered, Jane followed him.

"But what about Mjollnir?"

"In Asgard, if someone wears the symbol of Thor," Fenris explained. "It can mean many things. In my particular case, I believe it meant loyalty, strength, service, family..."

"So why has it become a symbol in Asgard, if people don't worship him?"

He hesitated, as if calculating what to say, then cleared his throat.

"Thor represents a great deal to the Asgardians," Fenris said, his voice sounding a bit strained. "Mostly protection, and bravery in battle."

"Why?" Jane wondered. Fenris gave her a strange look.

"Because he is Thor."

"That's just a little circular," she criticized.

"Haven't any of Erik's silly stories sunk in at all?" he suddenly demanded. "You've seen him! He's the prince, he's shining and handsome, he can make thunder and lightning, he is reckless and fearless and peerless, all of Jotenheim fears him, and even the people of Midgard, who deny he exists, hide from him. No one has ever been able to defeat him in combat, singlehanded or with large numbers. And nothing can dislodge his father's favor." Fenris practically spat. "He is the beacon, the symbol of hope and the son of Asgard's heart. Asgard falls without the _might _of _Thor_."

Jane had watched him very narrowly while he spoke, hearing the sarcasm—and something else—drip from his voice. Then, she took a breath.

"You don't like him very much."

Fenris ground his teeth and stared at the ground as he walked, visibly gathering himself.

"He is my prince. Someday he will be my king."

"You don't like him," Jane said again. Fenris made an odd growling noise.

"It…is not that simple."

Jane stared at him.

"Why would it be complicated?"

"Can we discuss something else?" Fenris said, gesturing in exasperation. "Anything. Anything in the World Tree, besides Thor."

Jane did not want to let it go. She had allowed Thor into her heart—she felt herself falling in love with him—yet the way Fenris talked about him twisted something in her chest. How could the Thor _she _knew contrast so sharply with the one Fenris knew?

But she also did not want to push Fenris away again. She had a feeling he had isolated himself before when they had talked too much about Asgard. But he had not missed a meal since the night they went to the bar, and so far as she knew, had been sleeping nights. And at the moment, that was more important than learning facts about a realm she couldn't reach.

"We don't have to discuss anything," Jane said, tempering her words with a smile. "I think we need a soda. Sound good?"

Fenris looked at her, bemused, but the tension in his shoulders eased.

"I have no idea, Jane Foster—but it looks as if I'll have to trust you."

Her smile broadened, and she led him back toward the van.

LLLLL

"Now, watch closely…" Loki took Jane's spoon from beside her soup bowl and held it up by the end in his right hand, between his forefinger and thumb. Erik and Jane—Jane to his left, Erik to his right—around the circular table, fixed their eyes on the spoon as sharply as he had seen them study data on a computer screen.

For a moment, Loki sat still, unable to resist a small smile as his eyes flicked over their serious faces. Then, he took a breath, and held his left hand over the top of the spoon, then made a small circular motion.

A little tendril of magic swirled from his palm and spiraled around the spoon. Then, a blue flash issued—and he felt the spoon snap out of existence, a quiet thud announcing its disappearance.

Jane yelped. Erik gasped and leaned back. Loki lifted his eyes to Jane's. Her mouth hung open.

"What…What happened?" she cried. "Where did it go?"

"Hold out your hand," Loki told her, deliberately not answering. She closed her mouth and looked at him sideways. He raised his eyebrows, met her gaze and gave her a small smile.

"Trust me." He put out his right hand, palm up. Jane cast a glance at Erik, who now sat with tight mouth, watching. At last, Jane held out her right hand and laid it in Loki's, palm up as well. For a moment, Loki reflected on how delicate her fingers felt. Then, he set his left hand, palm down, just an inch above Jane's palm. With a quick mental flick, he sent the tendrils swirling, and with a sparkling flare, the spoon popped back into being, lying lengthwise in Jane's hand.

Jane twitched, her fingers reflexively closing, catching Loki's left hand in hers. She gasped, then looked up at him and let out a delighted laugh. A thrill shot straight through Loki's chest, and he beamed at her.

"That's amazing!" Jane declared, her eyes sparkling as she let go of him and held the spoon in both hands. "I…I've never seen anything like that!"

"Me either," Erik said hoarsely, and Loki felt a deeper sense of satisfaction when he caught a glimpse of the astonishment in the older man's face. Jane's head came up.

"I thought you said you couldn't conjure things without that tunic!"

"No—I can conjure anything I want exceptthat _armor._ The armor is part of the tunic, unique to the fabric. It's not magic of my making, and requires certain movements." Loki answered.

"Okay, but where did it go?" Jane wanted to know, holding the spoon up in one hand.

"Erm…In between," Loki tried to explain. "Not out of existence, entirely, but not into another plane of existence, either. It's like…a cosmic larder, or a cabinet."

"You have an invisible storage closet," Jane said slowly. "In limbo."

Loki laughed. The sound rattled his chest—like rust cracking—but it felt indescribably good.

"Limbo—yes, that is a good word for it," he nodded. "In fact, I have several things stored there at the moment."

"Like what?" Jane asked, putting the spoon down on the table. Loki sat back and thought a moment.

"Well…A gold wrist band belonging to my brother, an old helmet, a broken time-keeper, a silver pen…I believe that is all," Loki said—for he stopped himself before he mentioned the Jotun ice casket he had hidden during his last few hours in Asgard. Remembering it, however, was sufficient to make his smile fade.

"Oh, and this also," he added on sudden impulse, trying to shake off that memory that clung to him like a cobweb. He reached toward Jane's head with his left hand. She pulled back.

"What are you—"

"Hold still, Jane," he said. "I thought I saw something back…" He reached past her ear as she sat stiffly, and ran his fingertips through her soft hair at the back of her head. For a moment, his thumb brushed her ear, and his eyes met hers. She blushed. He kept his expression still. Then, without breaking eye contact, he brought his hand back around, holding a stone in front of her between finger and thumb.

"This," he said.

Jane's eyes fixed on it.

"What is that?" Erik asked.

It was an oval-shaped stone about an inch long. At first glance, it appeared black. Then, when they peered closer, they could see it actually held deep tones of purple. And then, when Loki turned it in the light, the stone fairly burst with millions of tiny glittering silver, lilac and violet flashes, all captured in different depths.

"It's a Lokistone," he said quietly, paying no attention to it, and instead drinking in Jane's awed expression. "There are only seven of them in all the realms. Prince Loki discovered them on a high mountain whilst flying with Freya's falcon cloak. He nearly died in the endeavor. He brought them back, and gave them as gifts to a few of his friends and faithful servants. He also kept one for himself."

Jane stared at it, following the silver flashes with a grave and wonderstruck gaze.

"May I hold it?" she asked. Loki hesitated. The story was partly true—there were only seven of these stones in existence, and he had given them to his friends, family and servants. However, he had not found them—he had _made _them. He had spun his own personal magic into these stones, and each was unique.

But this one was _his_—the one he had kept for himself. The largest, deepest, most multi-faceted and mysterious one of all. His masterpiece. It was also as fragile as an eggshell, and light as cotton.

"Yes," he murmured. "Hold out your hand."

Jane obeyed, and Loki rested it in the center of her palm, then let it go.

Jane just held it there, slightly tipping her hand one way and then the other, allowing the overhead light to shimmer through the gem.

"I've never heard of a rock that looks like this," she whispered. "Not even meteors or moon rocks. Is it naturally this smooth, or did you have it polished?"

"It hasn't changed," Loki said, watching her every move.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "One of the prettiest things I've ever seen. You have to _really _look at it, you know? Because even right now I can see different layers, different colors that I didn't see before…it's like it's a different stone every way I turn it. It's incredible."

That thrill washed through Loki's chest again, but this time it traveled down his arms and tingled into his fingertips. For a moment, he thought it was residual magic. But then it tightened his stomach—and it forced out words that, for the first time, he did not think about before saying.

"You may keep it."

Her brown eyes flashed to his.

"What? I—oh, no. No, no," she shook her head. "This is priceless. And it feels like it's fragile. I couldn't possibly take this from you. There's only seven in existence, and it's yours, and it was given to you by a _prince_—"

"Keep it, Jane," Loki interrupted softly, catching her gaze and holding it. "It's the least I can do in exchange for all you've done for me."

Loki felt Erik's eyes on him, but he didn't turn to Jane's mentor. Jane studied Loki for a long moment, brow furrowed, as if trying to puzzle him out.

"Are you sure?" she asked. But all at once, Loki could see in her face that even though she would not resent him for taking it back—for she comprehended its value—she was more captivated by it than anyone on Asgard had been. It flattered him to the core.

"Yes, Jane," he said. "I'm sure."

She watched him for just another moment.

Then, suddenly, she smiled.

"Thank you," she managed, looking down at it again with real pleasure. Then she turned her smile on him. "Thank you—it's gorgeous, it really is."

Loki inclined his head, trying to suppress his own smile.

"I am glad you like it."

"So do all Asgardians have the ability to make things come and go at will like that?" Erik asked, putting his elbows on the lunch table. Loki took a breath and sat back, then faced him.

"No. It's a gift. A few people are adept at magic—the ebb and flow of the energy of the universe—and many others have different abilities, be it flight or foresight or long-sight or physical prowess or intellect," he said. "We each receive training concerning our gifts, and we also teach ourselves a great deal. Most of us are scholars. _Most_," he added, shrugging as he thought of Thor.

"What kind of training?" Jane asked, still focused on the stone in her hand.

"Academies," Loki responded. "Which concentrate on different fields of study. Some of them are equipped for honing mental skills, others for physical, and some for both."

"So, being a guard on the Asbru bridge, I assume you studied both," Jane's eyes flicked up to him, brow furrowed. He canted his head.

"Initially. Everyone does. But as I advanced, my study narrowed to the magical arts." He settled back into his chair. "But that was a very long time ago. I am now capable of teaching anyone in Asgard—even my old masters," Loki added with a crooked smile. To his surprise, Jane also smiled, without disbelief or sarcasm.

"Can you tell me about it?" she asked, lifting her eyes to him. "About your studies, your training? You said magic was the ebb and flow of the energy of the universe, right?"

"Erm…Yes, that is as simply as I can put it."

"She's an astrophysicist," Erik stated pointedly. "Graduated from _three_ of our academies, top of her class, in half the time it usually takes most people."

"I always knew you were clever," Loki gave Jane a warm look out of the corner of his eye. She chuckled.

"I'm sure she can handle it," Erik assured him. Loki raised his eyebrows.

"Even so," Loki said. "Things are so vastly different here on Midgard—I would have to start from the beginning."

"Okay," Jane said, gently setting the Lokistone down on the table and folding her hands on her lap. "I've got all afternoon."

Loki stifled a laugh.

"I'm afraid it might take…slightly longer than that."

Jane shrugged and gave him a bright look.

"I'm all yours."

Loki laughed again, thrown, then shot a glance at Erik. And, for the first time, Erik smiled at him.

"Well…" Loki hesitated, turning back to Jane, then cleared his throat. "In the time of the great beginning, during the days of Odin's father's father, magic hung around the stars, on the tops of the clouds, and in the roots of Asgard in various forms, such as radiant heat or invisible force…"

LLLLLL

_The great feasting hall of the palace of Asgard rang with music and laughter, and glowed with torchlight that gleamed off the gold-gilded pillars and arches. All of the royal court, dressed in their flowing silks of pearl, scarlet and lavender, sat at the long tables, eating and drinking and passing platters. Goblets clinked, jewelry sparkled, and the scent of roasted boar and venison filled the air. Odin, clothed in his dress armor, sat at the head of the table, his beauteous wife in white linen sat at the opposite end—and beside her perched Balder, a golden-headed, shining, universally beloved youth with eyes like stars, who would not come of age for a good while yet. To Odin's right sat Thor, resplendent as always. And to Thor's right sat Loki, still nursing a wrenched shoulder, but enjoying the sound of his brother and father's raucous laughter._

"_I swear to you, Father, if Loki had not stepped through their ranks at that exact moment, I would have fallen to my doom," Thor declared, slamming his stein down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. _

"_Oh, I'm certain you would have come up with something," Loki smirked at him, taking a sip of wine. _

"_Don't be a fool," Thor countered. "I'm indebted to you, Loki—I know that."_

"_Then I hope you plan to repay that debt, at least in part," Odin prodded. "Do you not have a gift for him?"_

_Loki swallowed his wine—almost choking on it—and looking up at his brother in true surprise._

"_I do indeed!" Thor crowed, getting to his feet, his scarlet cape tumbling behind him. "Loki—my brother—come up here."_

"_Oh, no, really…" Loki protested, feeling his face heat. Thor gave him a grin. _

"_Come on!" he ordered, motioning him forward. Loki cleared his throat, wiped his mouth on a napkin, then stood up and stepped over the bench, and up to his brother's side. Thor slung a heavy arm around his shoulders and led him up the few steps to the dais. _

"_What are you planning?" Loki said under his breath. Thor just chuckled, which made Loki uneasy, but before he could say anything, Thor had turned him around to face the assembly, holding him there with a broad hand on his shoulder. _

"_My friends," Thor announced. "Today, I set out on a quest—one that was fraught with adventure—and more peril than I had expected."_

_The people laughed. Loki swallowed._

"_I was plunged in glorious battle, and Mjollnir's thirst for blood was quenched!" Thor went on. "But then, for the first time in my long life, I was caught unawares. The numbers of the enemy proved too great, even for my fists, and the might of Mjollnir. And even as the floor of the cavern tumbled away beneath my feet, Mjollnir was twisted from my grasp." Thor's grip on Loki's shoulder tightened, and he turned his burning blue eyes from the feasting hall to those of his brother, a half smile on his face. "But call it wisdom or luck—or perhaps some of both—I had not come alone."_

_The hall fell quiet, sensing a solemnity come over Thor. Loki did not look away from his brother's eyes._

"_Loki, my younger brother, had walked and fought beside me in those caves, closer than my shadow," Thor continued. "And it was in that moment, when I had lost all hope, that he snatched me from the icy teeth of death." Thor gave him a warmer smile. "I fear his arm will never recover."_

_Loki could not help but smile that time, and duck his head, as their friends and family chuckled._

"_So," Thor slapped his back, then released him. "I will endeavor to make amends by this." He reached into a leather pouch that hung at his belt, and pulled out a shimmering silver chain, by which hung a gold pendant of Mjollnir. Loki blinked as he reached out a hand and fingered the pendant._

"_The workmanship is ingenious," he remarked quietly. "Who made it?"_

"_I did."_

_Loki, shocked, lifted his head to search Thor's face. _

"_Remember what Father always says," Thor said, glancing down at the bearded king for a moment. "There are two sides to Mjollnir. If I ask it to split mountains or crush bone, it will. But if I ask it to build or forge, it will do that as well." He paused, and gave Loki a serious look. "And I know where my _true _strength lies."_

_Loki was too stunned to say anything. And before he could try, Thor had stepped up to him, hung the chain around his neck and clasped it. _

_A jolt of power ran from the top of Loki's spine to his heels the instant the clasp clicked. Then, Thor wrapped his arms around him tight, taking a fistful of his dark hair. _

"_For as long as the east stands across from the west," Thor said, so only Loki could hear. "I will be your brother."_

Loki stood alone on the roof of Jane's lab, watching the purple twilight as the stars began to appear, one by one. A soft, cool breeze ruffled his new clothes. He listened to the silence, gazing up at the heavens, drowning in memory.

He reached up to his throat and hooked his fingers through the chain that hung there. For a moment, he stood still. Then, he took it in his fist, gritted his teeth, and jerked the chain.

It cut into his skin, but did not snap. He adjusted his grip, and yanked it again. That same strange power jolted down his spine, buzzing against his skull as if in protest. With both hands, he pulled at it, until it bit into his palms. It did not yield.

Then, a sharp twinge traveled across his ribcage, and he let out a gasping breath as his hands relaxed and his arms fell back down to his sides. He blinked as his vision clouded, and then squeezed his eyes shut, bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Blast you," he hissed, his voice breaking. He swiped at his eyes, shot a hateful look at the sky, then headed back down, turning his back on the stars.

TBC

_Review! _


	10. Chapter 10

_Oh, thank you all for your _beautiful_ reviews! They truly inspire me! I hope you enjoy this next chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! _

_VVVV_

CHAPTER TEN

_"Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out. The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak, hilly, coal country for a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and greeting were as opposite as his aspect."  
- Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights_

LLL

"Darcy!" Jane yelped, shoving the glass door aside and pelting out into the sunlit drive.

Darcy had half a second to look up from putting her keys in her purse before Jane threw her arms around her, almost knocking her down. When she finally let her go, Darcy laughed.

"I guess you missed me?" She readjusted her crooked glasses.

"Oh, you have no idea," Jane said in a rush, taking Darcy's duffle bag from her and heading toward her own trailer. "I don't think I've talked to a single woman the whole time you've been gone—I'm constantly surrounded by men."

"Oh, waah waah," Darcy said sarcastically.

"Oh, come on," Jane huffed. "It's just a bunch of geeky SHIELD scientists and Erik. Oh, and—"

"Darcy!" Erik strode smiling out into the sun, holding his arms out wide.

"Hi, Erik," she answered, stepped forward and gave him a hug.

"Good to have you back," he said. "We missed you."

"I gathered that," Darcy shot a crooked smile at Jane. Jane laughed. A shadow moved behind Erik, and Jane's eyes fell on Fenris, who stood behind him, hands in his jean pockets, head slightly lowered. He looked pale out here in the sun, his hair extra black—almost blacker than his leather jacket—and his emerald eyes even brighter. He watched them from a distance.

"Oh, and you remember Fenris," Jane gestured to him. Darcy stared.

"Um…kinda…" she stammered, visibly thrown.

Fenris studied her for a moment, then he stepped forward and held out his white hand. She hesitated, then put her hand in his. He brought it to his lips for a quick kiss, then inclined his head to her.

"Miss Darcy," he half smiled. "It's a relief to finally have you back. Ever since you confirmed you were coming, Jane could think of nothing else to talk about."

Jane chuckled.

"Yeah, I think I was driving these guys crazy," she admitted. Darcy, however, was still staring at Fenris. Fenris saw her face, and cast a quick, amused glance at Jane. Jane saw that Erik was also hiding a smirk.

"Hey, Darcy," Jane cut into the silence. "Why don't we throw your stuff in my trailer and you and me can go downtown and maybe get something to eat? Want to?"

"Um, sure," Darcy said, shaking herself. Fenris was still looking at Jane with a nearly-hidden smile on his soft mouth and a spark in his eye, obviously entertained. Jane felt an odd tension in her chest as she turned away. That whole encounter had been weird…

She put Darcy's duffle in her trailer, and then the two girls headed toward the center of town on foot, leaving Fenris and Erik behind.

As Jane and Darcy strolled down the sidewalk, the warm wind blowing through their long hair, Jane linked her arm through Darcy's.

"I'm proud of myself for talking you into coming."

"Hey, it really wasn't _that _hard," Darcy answered. "When you told me about the meteor shower, _and _that Tony Stark is _definitely _coming, there's no way I'd opt out of that. Besides, why should _you_ be the only one who gets to hang out with all the hot guys from Asgard?"

"The meteor shower is going to be spectacular," Jane declared. "And they're not sure _when _exactly Tony Stark will be here, but they promised they'd let us know if…Wait," Jane's heart jolted and she whipped her head around to stare at Darcy. "Did you say 'hot'? _Hot_ guys from Asgard?"

Darcy raised her eyebrows.

"Uh, yeah."

"What—you mean Fenris?"

Darcy gave her a pointed glance.

"Um, have you _looked _at him lately?"

"I…Well, _yes_, I look at him all the time!" Jane protested. Then her face got hot. "I mean, he's around all the time. I can't help it—it's not like I stare at him. I just—"

Darcy interrupted by heaving a huge sigh.

"I swear, sometimes Jane, you're kinda dumb for being so smart."

Jane gaped at her for a second, then burst out laughing and shoved her lightly. Darcy grinned.

"I'm telling ya…" Darcy said under her breath. "Total, major hottie."

"Shut up already," Jane shoved her again, but she could still feel herself blushing.

LLLL

Jane lay awake, staring at the ceiling above her bed. She didn't feel particularly troubled or restless tonight—her mind simply wasn't interested in shutting off yet.

For the past two days, she'd been getting used to having Darcy around again, asking offbeat and sometimes insightful questions, both helping and getting in the way. Jane and Erik had also had to write a program with which to diagnose a long stream of vital—and perhaps groundbreaking—data they had gathered from the Cube research. All of that in combination had boiled her brain.

She blamed overwork for her sleepless night, and knew that if she tried to focus on sleeping, she'd never succeed. So, she let her thoughts wander, meandering down whatever tangent, as the wind whistled against the walls of her trailer, and a little night light glowed at the far end of the room. But slowly, as her thoughts formed, they made her brow furrow.

The Cube _could _control space, and perhaps time. They knew that now. In theory. There was no telling as of yet how to operate it, or what its limits were. But all through her research, Jane had been building a hunch—and a hope—that was proving more and more correct the longer she studied: this Cube was the way back to Asgard. She wasn't sure how, or when it would be ready to test. But she just knew.

However, for the first time, she began to have strange feelings in her chest associated with that possibility. She couldn't name them, which is why she hadn't voiced any of them to Erik. She still wanted a chance to see Thor—wanted it desperately—but…then what?

She kicked her covers and turned onto her side, pulling her arms up to her chest and pressing her fingers against her lips. She blinked slowly.

Fenris had laughed the other day. It had had something to do with his vanishing act, and the magic storage closet in limbo. She couldn't exactly recall what it was that had amused him—she just remembered the sudden change in his face. His eyes had lit up like fireworks, and a dashing, perfect smile had crossed his face—his laugh had been almost musical. And ever since then, he had been smiling all the time. Not broadly, and not always so everyone could see. He just seemed to make sure that _she _could see.

It was astonishing, the change that had come over him. It was like Jane been knocking on a wall of ice with her bare hands forever and ever, and then she'd come across a small pick axe, struck the wall once, and the whole thing had split apart. At least, she would _like_ to think she had something to do with it. Perhaps she didn't—perhaps he was just feeling better, finally healing his broken ribs and gaining his strength back…

Jane let out a deep sigh, her eyebrows coming together as she resettled her head against her pillow.

Darcy had called him "hot." Which was weird. That thought had never occurred to Jane. Not the way it had with Thor. Of course, that thought was hard to _avoid _with Thor, especially when he had been walking around her lab shirtless…

No, "hot" wasn't the right word for Fenris. But Jane realized there had to be a similar word for him—because he _was _good-looking. He _was_—she would admit that. In a totally different way. Thor was golden and beaming and towering and good-natured, with a gorgeous smile and brilliant eyes—blue eyes that sparkled. He was warm and protective, brash and confident, and very easy-going. Welcome and enjoyable as a summer afternoon.

Fenris was dark and striking, with a penetrating gaze and a chilly aspect. He carried himself with caution, and _nothing _escaped his critical notice. But when his eyes and mouth softened, it was a captivating thing to see. And when he spoke to her when they were alone, telling stories of Asgard or discussing a book or magic, the way he used his hands to gesture was interesting and deft and precise, always leading with his left hand—and his speech, even more than his laugh, sounded like music. More than once, Jane had found herself falling utterly silent, forgetting herself, listening to the ebbs and rhythms of his tone as he spoke, watching his soft mouth form the perfect words, his long-lashed eyes either following his hands as they illustrated what he said, or glancing at her to catch her reaction to his tale.

The two men were _so _different. Thor was an open book, pages sprawled for everyone to see. But Fenris' book seemed to be open only to Jane.

Jane rolled over again, then pulled the pillow over her head and groaned.

"This is your fault, Darcy," she mumbled into the mattress. "All your fault!"

LLLLLL

"It isn't that simple, Jane," Loki insisted, coming around a table in the lab where Jane sat in front of a computer screen. "Magic isn't just spiritual and mental—there are biological elements to it as well."

"I still think anyone can learn it if you take your time and have good teachers," Jane answered, frowning at the computer screen as she typed.

"_No_," Loki shook his head. "Some people just can't."

"I don't see why," Jane said.

"Oh, come now, Jane," Loki furrowed his brow at her as he turned a chair around and straddled it, resting his elbows on its back. She didn't look at him. He leaned forward to try and get her attention, even though he knew he was testing her patience.

Jane had opted not to go to the bunker with Erik today, in favor of staying in the lab and processing the Cube data. However, Loki doubted she had been able to get much done, since the two of them had been arguing about her Midgardian Magic theory for three hours so far.

"Can you sing?" he asked.

She shot him a glance.

"No. Why?"

"I can," Loki replied. "And if I can, why can't you?"

"Because, I…I never took the time to learn."

He gave her a skeptical look.

"It isn't because you can't seem to make your voice hit the notes?"

Jane glared at him. He smirked and kicked his head back.

"All right then, can you juggle?"

"_Yes," _Jane said triumphantly, typing even faster.

"I can't," Loki shook his head. "Not to save my life."

She turned and gave him a curious glance.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hm."

"So what does that tell you?" Loki asked. She turned back to her program.

"That I need to practice singing and you need to practice juggling."

"Woman," Loki narrowed his eyes. "You are insufferable."

Jane grinned and let out a light laugh.

The front door banged open. Loki jumped up, reflexively stepping toward Jane.

It was Darcy, brushing her hair out of her face and holding her cell phone in the other hand.

"Just got a text from Erik," she panted. "All he said was 'Sorry, I didn't mean to, it was an accident.'"

"What? What does that mean?" Jane asked, losing her color.

And then a low rumble reached them. Jane gripped the armrests of her chair. Loki swallowed, his eyes darting from one window wall to the next.

Then, five black vehicles pulled up to the back parking next to Jane's trailer, kicking up dust as they came. Jane stood up and spun around to face them.

"Is it SHIELD?" she murmured. Then, the car doors opened, and a dozen men in black suits and sunglasses stepped out. And among them was a tall black man in a long trench coat and wearing an eye patch—the same man Loki had seen in the bunker, speaking to Erik. Right on his tail walked a stunning red-headed woman in a tight black leather suit. They strode toward the back lab door.

Loki felt Jane step in front of him, reach back and take hold of his wrist. That action set his heart pounding—Jane was afraid of them.

The tall black man stepped in, followed by the red-headed woman whose eyes were like lasers, and the men in suits came after, fanning out behind their leader.

"I'm Nick Fury," the leading man said, his voice deep and cutting as he fixed his one-eyed gaze on Jane. "I hear you have an Asgardian here."

Every muscle in Loki's body went tight. Jane clamped down on his wrist so hard he thought his bones would come together.

The front door opened. Loki risked a glance behind him. Erik, running a hand through his hair, walked in past Darcy—and he was smiling.

"I'm sorry—I let the cat out of the bag. I didn't mean to—it was completely absentminded of me. But Mr. Fury and Agent Romanoff happened to be in town, and they insisted on coming by to visit. I ordered delivery pizza."

Slowly, Jane's death grip on Loki's wrist relaxed, and as Loki made himself take the time to study the calm posture of the other strangers, he saw they were in no way poised to seize him. Fury's glance crossed Darcy, then Erik, then Loki and Jane. Then, he gave them a surprisingly winning smile.

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "We're not here to confiscate anything today."

LLLLLL

Darcy had snagged the last piece of pepperoni pizza before Agent Coulson could get it, and now she plopped down into her seat next to Erik, a little way away from all the noise and banter of the large group. Darcy took a bite and cocked her head, watching all the SHIELD people, Nick Fury, Romanoff, Fenris and Jane, who sat in a large circle, using the couch and most of the other lab chairs. Keeping her attention where it was, she leaned toward Erik.

"Does any of this seem funny to you?"

"Funny?" Erik answered, his voice low. "What do you mean?"

"When I left, this Fenris guy was a total whack job. Completely messed up, wouldn't let anybody touch him and didn't want to talk to anybody." Darcy paused. "Now look at him. All cleaned up, he has manners and everything. He's listening when those agents talk to him, and he answers them nicely, and look—look, look! He just smiled."

"He's not sure about these agents, though," Erik commented. "Look at his face—he's definitely not being completely open with them."

"I wouldn't be either," Darcy snorted. "Too many black suits."

Darcy watched for another long while, studying each person around the circle, and listening to their conversation. However, her eyes kept coming back to the woman with long, curling red hair—the one next to Nick Fury who held herself like a coiled snake. And then she watched how the others interacted with her. What she saw made Darcy shake her head in amazement.

"Hm. Not once."

"What?" Erik asked.

"That Whatever-Her-Face-Is Romanoff—that gal who has to be a movie star or model or something when she's not killing people—has been trying to get Fenris to look at her for a good half hour."

"Really?"

"Yep. She keeps playing with the ends of her hair—see? But he won't. I mean, he does when she asks a question. But she is so flirting and he is so not."

"He's paying attention to Jane," Erik observed. "Waiting for her to lead the conversation."

"Maybe," Darcy murmured. She studied everyone for another few minutes, eating half her pizza slice as she did.

"For a guy who doesn't like to be touched," she mused. "He's sure letting Jane sit close to him."

"I don't even think he notices," Erik answered. "They've been that way for a while now—they follow each other everywhere."

"I've noticed that," Darcy nodded. "And he says her name. Like, all the time. 'Jane, what about this,' and 'Jane, tell me about that.'"

"They say a person's name is what they like to hear most."

"So, what…He's trying to get her to like him?" Darcy glanced at Erik.

Erik sighed.

"I think it worked."

Laughter rang out—it was Jane—and Fenris just grinned at her. The hardened SHIELD agents seemed surprised by her exuberance, but they soon chuckled along. Except Romanoff, who just turned away and looked out the window. Darcy smirked to herself, and got up to get a soda.

LLLL

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Loki muttered, glaring out the passenger window at the dark landscape.

"I resent that," Jane shot back, gripping the steering wheel of the van. "I _have _had relationships before, you know. Parents, friends, family, boyfriends—I know the difference between hurting someone intentionally and hurting someone accidentally."

Loki sat back in the seat as the van jostled and bounced, the headlights barely bright enough to illuminate the dirt road in front of them. They were coming back from a short trip into a larger city—Jane had needed what she called another "external hard drive," and Loki had come along. But instead of enjoying themselves, they had been arguing for two solid hours and Loki was wishing he had not accompanied her.

"That is just what I'm saying," he answered. "There is no such thing as _accidentally _hurting someone. It's impossible to unwittingly do damage."

"No, it isn't," Jane insisted. "You can hurt somebody's feelings by not knowing that what you said would hurt them—"

"Ignorance is never an excuse," he shot back, glaring out the windshield. "If you don't know, you should keep your mouth shut instead of making assumptions. And not knowing is just another way of showing the person that you didn't care enough to find out."

"You can't walk around on eggshells all the time," Jane countered, turning her head to give him a sharp look. "And you also can't take everything everybody says personally! Sometimes people clash and do things they regret later. And sometimes people say stupid things—you can't hold it against them for the rest of time."

"There you go again with the stupidity," Loki snapped. "I told you, that is not an excuse."

"You know what I meant!"

"It's a foolish argument."

"Oh, so now _I'm_—"

Something flashed outside the windshield. Jane gasped, and jerked the wheel.

A thud rang through the front of the van.

Jane slammed her foot down on the brakes and the van skidded to a halt.

And then loud, sharp, mournful howling cut the night.

"Oh, no! What did I hit?" Jane cried, throwing the van into park and unbuckling her belt.

"Jane—" Loki tried, but she wasn't listening. She flung the door open and leaped outside. The night wind blustered into the van and blew her hair. She slammed the door. Loki ground his teeth, unbuckled himself and got out.

His boots hit the dirt, and he squinted against the darkness contrasted by the brilliance of the headlights. The pitiful howling sliced through his senses. He had to search for a moment to find Jane, buffeted by a strong wind, furtively searching the side of the road. Then, she jerked to a stop.

"Oh, no," she sounded on the verge of tears. "It's a dog!"

"Jane…" Loki warned, stepping closer.

"Oh, it's a dog—it's got a collar…Fenris, this is somebody's dog!"

Loki came closer, peering around her to see a large black dog with a red collar struggling to rise and escape. One of its rear legs was mangled, and Loki saw blood running down its hip.

"We have to get it to a vet," Jane decided, her voice gaining a firmness Loki recognized. "We'll get it in the back of the van and take it back to town." Jane stepped assertively toward it, her mind obviously made up. The dog went still, and its yelping changed to a strange, throaty, whining growl. It turned its head to look at her—and Loki could see the whites of its eyes. Loki's instincts tingled.

"Jane, please slow down a moment," he tried. "Jane, let me—"

"It's okay, it's okay," Jane soothed the animal, and reached down to grasp its collar.

The dog let out a sharp snarl—

Lunged and sank its teeth into her hand.

She screamed.

Loki's heart lurched.

The dog thrashed loose and scrambled away.

Loki leaped toward Jane as she fell onto her knees, gripping her left hand in her right. Blood covered her fingers.

Loki whirled, rage turning his vision scarlet. He would find that beast and kill it. It would be so easy—

Jane's moaning brought him around. He turned back to her, then quickly knelt down in the sand in front of her.

"Let me see," he urged, holding his hands out to her. "Jane, let me see."

Her whole body shook, and she stifled sharp cries. He took both her hands in both of his—his fingers instantly became hot and sticky.

"He bit me," Jane gasped, her hair blowing into her face—Loki could see a pair of tears running down her cheeks, glittering in the headlamps.

"Yes, he did," Loki murmured, his fingertips exploring her wounds. His mouth tightened, and he closed his eyes. One canine tooth had penetrated all the way through her hand. The other teeth had torn open the soft skin of her palm, and wrenched back the flesh on the back of her hand.

She let out a staggered sob, then swallowed it. Loki opened his eyes and summoned the smallest bands of black, sparkling magic to his fingertips.

"Can you open your fist for me?" he asked. Her hands twitched, her shoulders tensing, but her shaking fingers slowly unlocked as he eased them open. He pressed his right hand up to her palm, and his left hand down on the back of her hand. She twitched again, almost out of his grip, but he held her fast.

"Easy, easy," he soothed. She sucked in a hitched breath.

"This is my fault. That was stupid, so, so _stupid_…"

"Nonsense," Loki frowned, spreading his fingers out over her wrist, and slowly running his fingertips over the jagged wound. "The animal bit you."

"No, that was stupid! I shouldn't have grabbed him like that," she shivered, gasping through tears and swiping at her eyes with the back of her right sleeve. "He was just scared…he didn't know…"

"It was a dog," Loki said flatly, turning her hand over gently and rubbing his thumb down her palm, drawing circles around the puncture marks. His fingers got covered with her blood. He focused down. Jane pressed her right arm to her chest and quivered. Several minutes passed, nothing filling the silence but the wind, the van engine idling, and Jane's short, uneven breaths.

"Probably a nice dog," Jane whispered, her voice jerky. "He'd probably never do something like that..." She swallowed hard, trembling again. "He just lost his mind for a second."

Loki glanced up at her pretty face—her brow twisted, and her long-lashed eyes were burnished with falling tears. He looked back to his work, closing his hands around hers and letting the energy hum between them.

"You're uncommonly compassionate," he commented quietly. "Far more so than I am at the moment. I'm inclined to murder it."

"It's not it's fault," Jane said, letting out a shuddering sigh. "Everybody acts like that when they're hurt."

Loki paused, lifting his eyes to her face again. Her eyes had drifted closed, her features tight.

Suddenly, she twitched again, jerking Loki's magic-lined stitches until they almost pulled.

"Stop, stop, stop," Loki urged, taking hold of her wrist. "Hold. Jane, listen to me."

"Mhm," she said through her teeth, eyes still closed.

"I need you to breathe. I need you to take deep breaths and relax."

"Mm."

"And I need you to trust me. I can repair this, but you need to allow me." He raised his eyebrows, watching her. "All right?"

"All right," she whispered. Then, she took two breaths, and blew them out. "Okay, okay, okay…"

"Hold still," Loki instructed. He pressed her hand between his, then released, and turned her hand over, palm up. He gathered the strands of magic in his fingertips, and sent them down and across her punctured palm, touching soft as feathers. Jane sniffed. Her hair brushed his face as the wind tousled it.

He turned her hand back over, and set his fingers on the edge of the long wound. He pulled and wove the magic, a centimeter at a time, gathering her flesh back together, binding it and holding it. Then, he pulled her hand a little closer to himself, took a half lungful, and lightly blew an icy breath across her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arm.

"_Ooh_," she shuddered, wincing. He stroked the wound again, feeling it smooth out beneath his touch—feeling the gash close up. He turned her hand over once more, palm up, and blew another chilly breath. Her hand flexed open on its own in reaction—Loki watched with pleasure as the tendons moved as they ought. Then, he pressed his thumb down on one side of the puncture and his forefinger on the other side, and he pinched her hand hard.

"Ah!" she gasped. He shot magic straight through the hole, and a blue flash issued, lighting up the inside of her hand for a moment, so they could see the veins and bones, all perfectly reordered.

"There," Loki said. "Let me see."

He took hold of her wrist and squeezed, then slid his hand firmly over the heel of her hand, the middle of it, then her fingers. Everything lined up within, and his fingers slipped smoothly over her flawless skin. The only thing that remained was the blood—but it no longer issued from any hurt. He let go of her.

She lifted her hand, which still trembled slightly, and stared at it. He could see half of her face now, lit by the headlights. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. She blinked. A surprised tear fell.

"It doesn't even hurt," she whispered. Her eyes found his. "That's…That's incredible."

He smiled, something inside his chest going weak and unstable.

"That was frightening," he corrected, his face going cold. Jane gave a watery laugh, her tears making her eyes sparkle, and she wiped them away with her sleeve again.

"You? Scared? I don't believe it."

He managed another smirk and glanced down.

"Well, um…I need to wash," Jane said, getting her feet under her. "You think we can make it back to the—" She stumbled. Loki leaped up and grabbed her arm with both his hands.

"Are you all right?"

She lifted her face for a moment and smiled at him.

"Yeah, I'm good," she steadied herself. "I'm feeling kind of shaky, though. Too bad you can't drive."

"I will try if you wish," Loki said.

"No, no," Jane laughed faintly. "It's okay. I'll just go slow."

"You're sure?" he watched her.

"Yes," she nodded. Her hand found his and squeezed it. "Thanks, though."

Loki swallowed, wanting to say something in protest, but knowing there was no way around it. So he nodded too, and helped her around to her door and fairly lifted her in. Then, he got in beside her and quietly shut the door.

As she put the van in its moveable gear and began driving again, much slower this time, Loki paid no attention to the road. He kept his eyes on her, his heartbeat odd and unsteady against his breastbone.

Jane swiped the last of her tears away on her sleeve, and gripped the steering wheel tightly with her dirty hands.

"So, um…What were we talking about?" she sniffed.

"How you are right," Loki murmured.

Her eyes caught his for an instant, still glimmering a bit, and he solemnly held her gaze. Then, she smiled shakily, and turned back to the road. Loki swallowed, and did not turn away from her.

LLLLL

The halls of Asgard were quiet, and dimly lit. Warm night wind wafted through the open doors and windows, as did soft moonlight. Frigg paced down a long, alabaster corridor, her footsteps padding quietly, her long white dress trailing on the marble behind her. She paused as she glimpsed her husband's tall chamber door slightly ajar, golden firelight spilling through the crack. She hesitated, then pushed the door open on its silent hinges.

Odin sat before the fireplace in a broad, plush scarlet chair, its wooden armrests carved into the shape of dragons. The rest of the chamber—his bed and chests of treasure—hung back in dark shadow. Odin wore soft gold, and he gazed down at the object in his hand: a small silver stone the size of a robin's egg, that gleamed and glittered differently with each angle it was turned. Frigg hesitated, seeing the lines in Odin's brow, the distant sorrow in his eye. She lowered her head, and pulled back to leave him alone.

"So often, we are so certain," Odin murmured, his voice stopping her. She lifted her face, but he did not look at her. She slipped into the chamber, and slowly stepped toward him. She settled down into a chair across from him, folding her hands in her lap, and said nothing, watching him as the firelight flickered against his rugged features. He took a deep breath.

"And other times," he murmured. "We question every decision we have ever made. Every method we thought well-tried, every priority we set, is suddenly thrown into doubt."

Frigg glanced down at the rings on her fingers, unable to make herself look at the glitter of the stone in Odin's hand.

"He never complained, never contradicted me or you," Odin whispered. "He was such an odd, solemn child. I never could understand him—never knew what to make of him." Odin paused—and when he spoke next, his voice was ragged. "But that doesn't mean I didn't…"

He swallowed, and fell silent. Then, he closed the stone in his hand, and pressed his knuckles to his lips and shut his eye.

Frigg watched him for a moment, then rose up silently. She turned and walked back toward the door, left the room, and shut the door behind her.

She let out a long sigh as she stood there a while, and then she followed her feet further down the hallway just a short distance.

Frigg paused in front of another door that no light shone beneath. She reached out a graceful hand, and touched a brass handle that had a spell on it so it would only open for her or Odin. She worked the latch. It clicked and gave way.

She pushed the door open, and stepped into a dark chamber where only moonlight drifted in through a higher window in the far wall. She passed her hand over a glass lamp hanging near the door, and it came to life, glowing softly. Frigg stood still, and glanced around the small room.

In the far corner sat a carved cradle, and next to it stood a little child's bed, the headboard shaped like a sailing ship. The deep green blankets and embroidered pillows had not been disturbed for years. All along the walls sat open chests of toys—mostly wooden swords, metal figurines or play armor made of leather. A thick, soft rug covered the floor, so it was perfect for lounging, playing or even sleeping upon.

Giddy laughter, and the clacking of wooden swords rushed across Frigg's memory, like the echo of the tide carried on the wind. She closed her eyes tight and opened them—and for an instant, she saw Loki, just a toddler, sitting on the floor in front of her in a beam of sunshine, with a wooden horse—his favorite of all of these playthings—captured between both hands. His brilliant green eyes turned toward her, and a delighted grin lit up his face.

She blinked again.

He was gone. And the room was dark.

Frigg wandered further in, surrounded by silence, and paused at the edge of the tiny bed. Her long fingers reached down and curled around the soft top blanket. Loki's skin had been far too tender for wool, so she herself had made him a fleece blanket as soft as silk that would wrap around him and keep him warm as a summer night, even in the depths of winter.

Frigg picked the blanket up, dragging it across the top of the bed, and drew it to her chest. She gathered it up and wrapped her arms around it tight, then buried her face in its softness and sobbed.

TBC

_Don't forget to review!_


	11. Chapter 11

_For this first flashback, it is kind of fun to listen to "Thor Soundtrack-Sons of Odin." I did. :) It's on youtube. And for the last scene, I listened to "How to Train Your Dragon Soundtrack Romantic Flight" and the "October Sky Theme." They're quite lovely. :) Enjoy!_

_LLLL_

CHAPTER ELEVEN

There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds. ~G.K. Chesterton

LLL

_The sun blazed in the sky above Asgard, filling the giant tournament coliseum with brilliant light, as the wind caught the thousands of colorful banners and flags and set them fluttering. The thunder of the cheering crowd flooded Loki's senses as he stepped out of a door beneath the bleachers and onto the torn sand. He paused, and glanced above and around him at the vast, flashing masses. All of them directed their shouts toward the center of the ring, where, amidst the wreckage of war engines, three ragged-but-grinning warriors stood: the golden-haired Fandral the Dashing, dark-countenanced Hogun the Grim, and red-bearded Volstaag the Valiant, all newcomers to the court. And now, due to their triumph in the tournament, they had earned the coveted position of Thor's personal warrior entourage. _

_ Loki strode through the shadow of one side of the stands as the cheers resounded all around and above him, his long green dress cape fluttering around his ankles. Servants had begun to enter the arena floor, cleaning the mess and raking the sand flat again. Loki eyed the destroyed machines, and raised his left hand slightly to send invisible magic coursing out from his fingertips, making certain all of the tournament spells had been put to sleep._

_ "Ah! This is the one!" _

_ Loki halted, his head coming around. Fandral strode toward him whilst removing his leather bracers. The blonde man shot him a grin. Loki frowned. Fandral was closely followed by Hogun and Volstaag. Volstaag had the same look of brash glee on his face that Fandral did, but Hogun's black eyes were unreadable. _

_ "Can I help you?" Loki asked. _

_ "You already did," Fandral crowed. "The pageboy told me you were the one in charge of the illusions and dangers in this tournament."_

_ "Indeed, I was," Loki answered, narrowing his eyes and studying each of them in turn. _

_ "We were just wondering if that was as challenging as they possibly could be," Volstaag rumbled, grinning at his friends. "We were told that the creator of these illusions was a master—that he could maim or kill his foes without even touching them."_

_ Loki raised an eyebrow._

_ "Are you complaining that you weren't maimed this afternoon?"_

_ "I think he is saying that your reputation has been exaggerated," Hogun said, straight-faced. _

_ "Thank you for translating," Loki said coldly. _

_ "What my friend is saying," Fandral laughed, putting a hand on Volstaag's broad shoulder. "Is that we hope you aren't disappointed. You mustn't be, you know. I doubt you've been tested against warriors of our caliber before."_

_ "You shouldn't listen to stupid gossip," Hogun scolded Fandral. "If he could maim people without touching them, don't you think he would have been out here in the contest with us, trying to become one of Thor's best?"_

"_You're right, of course." Fandral looked at Loki with interest. "You've doubtlessly just performed illusions to amuse the All-Father in the past, am I correct?" He glanced at the others. "I've heard of monarchs who keep illusionists as they would keep minstrels or jesters."_

_ Loki's mouth hardened._

_ "It's too bad, really," Volstaag said. "It would be nice to have someone in our band that could fight like _that_."_

_ Loki's eyes caught a flash of red far past them. He turned back to the three. _

_ "Pardon my curiosity, my lords, but may I ask the name that this pageboy used to identify me?"_

_ "The Illusion Master," Hogun answered. _

_ "Yes, that is one of my titles," Loki answered. Then, he raised his voice and his head. "Thor!"_

_ The three jumped, and their eyes went wide. They had never heard someone call him by just his given name. _

_ "What do _you_ want?" Thor bellowed back, in an impetuous, familiar tone. Loki didn't answer—he just folded his arms and waited. _

_ Thor, his armor flashing blindingly, his red cape billowing out behind him, strode across the tournament field, hopped over a piece of machinery, and swung around the tall form of Volstaag, smiling. _

_ "Ah, my new friends—I see you've met my brother!" he thundered. The three went ash white. Loki buried his smirk. Thor came up beside Loki and put an arm around him. _

_ "Not officially," Loki said, unveiling his crooked smile now. Fandral looked shaken, Hogun's face went tight—Volstaag gulped._

_ "Volstaag, Fandral, Hogun," Thor slapped Loki's back. "This is my younger brother and right arm, Prince Loki the Cunning. It's best you know him, and know him well—he'll be coming or going wherever I come or go. And don't cross him," Thor pointed Mjollnir at them good-naturedly. "He can cut you into a thousand pieces by just looking at you. I've seen him do it." Thor slapped Loki again, then turned toward the exit. "Shall we go to the hall, Loki? I hear our feast is waiting for us!" Thor strode off. Loki inclined his head to the three stunned warriors._

_ "My lords," he purred, then turned and strode out, keeping exact pace with Thor, at his right hand side. _

LLLLLL

Loki stood on the roof of the lab, gazing up at the late afternoon sky, his brow furrowed. The wind gusted from the south, and it felt cooler than normal. Thick clouds gathered on the horizon. He slid his hands into his jeans pockets and took a breath to try and loosen his chest. It didn't work.

Someone was touching the Cube. With their hands, ungloved. He could feel it—feel the energy from the Cube pulsing and jerking in reaction, much as a captive fish would twitch away from a prod. It tied his insides in knots—he had completely lost his appetite. It even made what remained of his rib injury twinge.

He would be entirely healed in a matter of days. And the memory of his plan resurfaced now like the skeleton of a ship dredged up in a storm. He stood in silence, studying that hulk in his mind, feeling his blood go cold.

He clenched his jaw and lowered his head. The scientists were getting close to discovering the true nature of that device—he knew it by their speech and their confident manner, and by everything he had heard Jane and Erik discussing.

If he wanted the Cube, he would have to move. Soon.

LLLLL

Jane shoved the lab door open, stormed inside and flung her purse down on the couch where Fenris' blankets were neatly folded.

"_Crap!" _she roared. "Crap, _crap!"_

Footsteps creaked on the metal staircase that led to the roof. She didn't look up—she knew it was Fenris. Instead, she kicked her desk chair. It rolled across the tile floor.

"What does that word mean?" Fenris asked, stopping where he was.

"It's an expression of frustration," Jane said, clenching her fists. "Although there are probably stronger ones I could use at the moment."

"Why? What's wrong?"

She finally looked up at him—he stood halfway down the stairs, his hands in his pockets, his demeanor quieter than usual. It was irritating to Jane, who wanted to fling something across the room and scream. She settled for whacking a hand down on her computer keyboard—the screen sprang to life.

"What's _wrong _is that it's overcast. Completely, totally overcast—I think it's cloudy from here to the freaking Mason-Dixon Line, and it's going to stay that way until the middle of _tomorrow_. See? Look at that." She pointed to her screen, which showed a meteorology map of the country—and it did indeed display a large, slow-moving section of clouds covering at least two states. Including theirs.

"Why is that a problem?" Fenris asked, coming the rest of the way down the steps and nearing her, his brow furrowed.

"Don't you remember?" Jane cried. "Or did you forget too? Darcy probably has—and I _know _Erik did!" She stopped, and searched his puzzled face. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"I—" Fenris started.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter," Jane muttered, her throat threatening to choke her. She turned back and bent over her purse, rifling through it for her trailer keys.

"Jane, what happened?" Fenris asked quietly. Jane furiously dug through the contents of her bag.

"This morning, SHIELD decided they would shut me of the physical examination of the Cube," she snapped. "They reminded me that I'm only a consultant, and as such, I shouldn't be around when they do anything that dangerous. Of course, I was more than a little offended, because at this stage I know as much about it as _any _of them do, so I put up a fight." Jane huffed, starting to take things _out _of her purse now and pile them on the couch. "_Then,_ Agent Coulson 'asked' me to go home. Erik didn't fight him, and made me get in the van so he could drive me. _And, _just to make me happier, the whole drive home, I watched the clouds come out of nowhere cover the whole sky. At first—ha, silly me—I thought it would clear off. But then I looked at the radar on my phone." Jane snatched her keys out of the very bottom of her purse. "And so now my whole day is trashed."

She could feel Fenris' eyes on her, but she already felt like a baby for throwing this tantrum, and she couldn't stand to look at him.

"That's unfortunate," Fenris said.

Jane whirled around, strode toward the front door and shoved on it.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered. "Who cares about a bunch of falling rocks anyway?" And she left the lab, and a silent Fenris, behind her, and stomped to her trailer as the

wind picked up even more and the sky darkened.

LLLLL

Jane sat on her bed, still dressed. It was past midnight, but again, she could not make herself sleep. This time, it was because her heart sat so heavy inside her she could barely breathe.

She had been looking forward to the meteor shower _so much_. It had been a long time since she had seen one—and they always reminded her of the first night she had ever witnessed such a phenomenon. One warm summer night, when she was twelve years old, her daddy had taken her hand in his—a firm, gentle hold—and had led her to the top of a high, grassy hill to watch. And as the meteors streaked across the sky, Jane had realized right then that her future was in the stars. Those blazing specks of tumbling light had inspired her, lit a fire in her soul. That fire had carried her through years of schooling, years of successes and failures and ridicule and heartache. But right now, her soul just felt tired. And dark. And alone.

Every time she thought she was making headway, they would knock her five steps back. Every time it looked like things were about to line up, she would find out her compass was all wrong.

Jane twisted where she sat, and leaned back against the wall, sighed, and lifted the Lokistone out from underneath her collar. It was now attached to a chain and an oval setting that had belonged to her grandmother. At first, she had put the Lokistone in a jewelry box, but she couldn't bear shutting it in the dark like that. So she had set it out on her dresser, but then she worried it might get knocked off. So she had dug around in an old shoebox and found the silver setting, devoid of the turquoise stone it had once held. During one of the trips to the bunker, she had dropped both the Lokistone and the chain-with-setting off at the local jeweler to be fitted together—and now she wore them around her neck, resting against her breastbone.

She fingered it, turning the stone back and forth in the little light of her lamp. There had been a few times recently when she could have sworn it had heated up against her skin, just for a moment. And another time, she had been almost positive that it had glowed, or emitted some sort of sharp light for just a moment. Oddly, this didn't bother her. Instead, it reminded her that she _wasn't _crazy, that there _were _powerfulbeings in another realm that had come across a rainbow bridge not long ago and changed everything. That she was right. That she had always been right.

But the stone hadn't glowed or heated up in a while. And at the moment, it felt cold to her touch, and looked slightly duller than she remembered. She bit her lip, hear heart sinking. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her forehead going tight as she fought not to let all her disappointment and frustration swamp her. She let out a long sigh. It shook. She reached up and pressed a hand to her eyes, keeping tears at bay.

The stone flashed. Jane jerked, blinking rapidly. The light faded, and the stone looked the same as it had before. She frowned and sat up straight.

A knock came at her door.

She swung her legs around and put her feet on the floor, glancing at the clock. It was ten till three in the morning. Tucking her necklace under the front of her shirt again, she got up and edged to the door. Carefully, she worked the latch and pushed the door open a crack.

She saw no one. She opened the door a little further and looked out into the parking—

To see Fenris standing about ten feet away, dressed in his leather and his full, shining armor, his green cape hanging from his shoulders down to his ankles. He glanced up from fingering his right-arm bracer and met her eyes—she could see the whole of his striking figure in the light of a street lamp and the neon light of the tower on the lab.

"What are you doing?" Jane hissed, pushing her hair out of her face, for the cool night wind blew it in her eyes. Fenris put spread his hands out to the sides.

"I was under the impression we were to watch a meteor shower tonight."'

Jane sighed and leaned her head against the doorframe.

"Yeah, well…We can't now." She gestured helplessly to the sky, where not one star was visible through the thick clouds. Fenris glanced up.

"Hm. I see no reason why that should stop us."

"Um, it's kind of hard to see a meteor shower through clouds," Jane pointed out. "Unless you have X-ray vision."

"Did Thor never take you flying?" he asked, then met her eyes again.

"Um…" Jane said, confused. "Yes. I mean, we sort of…blasted off and then landed hard out in the desert somewhere…"

Fenris sighed and shook his dark head.

"Yes, the man never has been known for his touch." He held out a pale hand. "Come with me. I'll show you how it's done properly."

Jane hesitated, looking at him sideways and holding tight to the doorframe, her stomach going tense. Fenris dropped his hand and rolled his eyes_._

"Oh, don't tell me you trust that oaf but you don't trust me. I was flying circles around Thor when he was still trying to get Mjollnir to come back to him without hitting him in the face."

Jane burst out laughing, then covered her mouth with her hand. Fenris smiled. Then, he ducked his head a moment, and when he met her gaze again, his emerald eyes were clear and steady.

"Come on, Jane," he said quietly, holding his hand out again. "You don't want to miss this."

Jane stood for a long moment on the top step of her trailer, looking back into his eyes. She swallowed hard. He waited, his hand still held out to her. Then, before she knew what she was doing, she took a step down. Then another. And she reached out and grasped his fingers.

He pulled her toward him, then let go of her hand and turned her so her back was to him.

"Stand on my feet," he instructed. He nudged her closer, and she stepped back and stood up on his boots, and inadvertently leaned back against his chest. She blushed, feeling awkward. The back of her head bumped his breastplate, and she had the fleeting realization that he was actually taller than she thought.

Then, he slid his arms under hers and wrapped them firmly around her middle. She sucked in her breath as she was suddenly encased in strength and hardness—her arms rested on his, and her back pressed against his chest, all of which was covered in armor.

Then, she felt him lean his head down toward the left side of hers.

"Ready?" he asked. She gave a weak laugh.

"I suppose," she managed. He didn't answer. His arms tightened around her…

And then she felt herself being lifted off the ground. She gasped. Fenris' cape fluttered, and then they were rising, up and up, so she could see the roof of her trailer, then the roof of the lab, and then they were past the tip of the tower.

Swiftly and smoothly, they climbed higher and higher, until she could see the lights and rooftops of the whole town stretched out beneath them. Darkness surrounded them, pressing down on them, as they left civilization below. Jane gulped, offering a silent prayer of thanks that she wasn't afraid of heights—for nothing stood between her and the ground except Fenris' feet and arms. She glanced up.

Straight above them hung a canopy of black cloud, as impenetrable-looking as a stone wall. She glanced up and back. Fenris' head was tilted upward, and he gazed straight toward the sky.

She felt him take a deep breath, and pull her even closer. And then…

They entered the cloud.

Jane shivered, drawing her shoulders up as wind and cold suddenly rushed around her, tickling her skin with millions of droplets of water. She could see nothing all around her except darkness, and the cloud whispered and whirled through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. Fenris picked up his speed—the wind whipped her hair and her stomach plunged. His cape flapped like a flag behind them. Up, and up, through swirling, freezing darkness, and then—

They burst out of the clouds. The deep blue sky exploded with millions of crystal clear stars, and the full beaming moon shone down across a canyon of milky white-and-silver-gilded clouds that towered over them like monoliths.

Jane gasped, electricity shooting through her body. The vast dome of the endless sky seemed close enough to touch with her fingertips, yet Jane felt as if she was standing on the surface of the moon.

Fenris let them drift down a bit, until the dome of a star-kissed cloud enfolded and curled around their feet and ankles. All around them, looming clouds drifted like immense ships under full sail, taller than any skyscraper. One side of their soft forms was blanketed with purest white light, and the other side bathed in the blackest ink of night. Each a different shape, each staggeringly colossal, stretching their peaks up and out of sight—some looking like sheep's fleece, others like strands of feathers, some like sparkling cathedral domes, and others like the jagged Rocky Mountains. And the stars…

They truly looked like pinpricks in the floor of heaven. Jane swept her dazzled eyes over all of them, feeling like she was seeing old friends for the first time. They twinkled down at her, as if winking in recognition, and almost seemed to draw nearer. Jane couldn't speak.

Fenris' arms shifted around her. She adjusted her grip on him. He leaned his face down toward hers again.

"Here they come."

She took a breath to ask him what he meant—

And then they shot across the sky, blazing and burning and blinding, bearing light far brighter than the stars or even the moon:

Meteors.

Fallen stars.

Countless dozens flared straight across her vision, cutting across the light-skirt of the moon and vanishing into the clouds like birds plunging into the ocean. No sooner would they disappear than Jane's flashing eyes would be caught by a dozen more as they broke through the atmosphere like a legion of angels descending, streaking by in a flare of brilliant glory.

Sometimes, one or two would slice through higher or lower than she expected, and at other times they would charge past all in a concerted line. Each time a new one appeared, chills raced across Jane's skin, sending a shiver straight down her spine. She couldn't tear her eyes from the sky—her heart pounded in her chest and her breaths came quick and sharp.

Then, she felt Fenris' soft lips against her ear.

"Are you cold?"

She blinked, swallowed, then let out a breathless laugh.

"Yes," she declared, and vapor issued from her mouth.

He moved and rested his chin on top of her head—she felt him do it. Then, he turned his hands and enveloped hers in his, entwining their fingers and squeezing her icy thumbs. Warmth rushed through her from the crown of her head down to her heels, and from her fingertips to her heart. She gasped, stunned, and surprised tears sprang to her eyes. She swallowed hard again, then smiled foolishly and leaned her head back further under his jaw.

The meteors continued their swift, short-lived downward race, enrapturing Jane completely and burning the sight of them into her memory.

At last, one final meteor—the largest of all—trailed downward all alone, bright and quick and stunning. Then it was gone. The sky was still.

Jane took a breath, a shiver passing through her as she came back to herself. The flap of Fenris' cape was all she could hear. The cold, moist wind touched her face, and warmth rested in her hands and her head.

"Shall we?" Fenris asked, and his voice vibrated through her head.

"Do we have to?" she murmured.

"Now what good would all of this be if you died of cold?" he asked. Jane smiled.

"I would die happy."

He said nothing. She felt him swallow.

"Hold on," he whispered at last, and then they sank down through the cloud.

Seamlessly, Fenris pulled her back down out of the sky, back through the whirling dark, back through the pressing black of the highest reaches, until the lights of the town spread out like a carpet beneath them. Without a rush or a jerk, he guided her down to the roof of the lab, parallel with the tower, and set her down as lightly as if she'd taken the last step from her trailer to the gravel.

Jane stepped off his shoes and turned around, their hands and arms sliding out of each other. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at him.

His black hair was wind tossed, and strands fell across his brow. He looked striking and noble in his clean uniform and armor—so similar, yet so different, compared to the way he had looked when she had first seen him. His green eyes followed hers, shining in the neon light. And something tightened his brow, troubled his soft mouth. He didn't speak—but his gaze penetrated through her, stealing her breath. For just an instant, he bent toward her, his eyelashes fluttering. She did not step back.

Then, he drew in a deep breath and straightened, and glanced out over the hidden hills. Jane cleared her throat.

"Thank you," she murmured. His eyes flashed back to hers, and he smiled reflexively for a moment.

"I couldn't have you so upset," he said. "It makes me fear for my life."

Jane laughed, finding it impossible to take her eyes from him. She forced herself to lower her head.

"Come on, I'm not that scary," she said.

"You haven't seen yourself," he chuckled. Jane grinned, and risked looking at him again. He was smiling when he met her eyes—but his smile faded the longer they looked at each other. She swallowed, something staggering her heartbeat.

"I'd…I'd better go to bed," she managed. He nodded quickly, glancing away.

"Um, thank you," Jane said again, awkwardly reaching for his hand—though as soon as she took it, she felt silly.

But he instantly caught her hand up in both of his, his grip gentle, turned it over and pressed a kiss to her palm. Again, warmth shot through her, straight to her chest.

"It was my pleasure," he said, meeting her eyes again, for just an instant. Then, he inclined his head, let her go, and looked back toward the horizon. "Goodnight, Jane."

She studied his profile for another long moment, then felt a slow smile spread across her face.

"Goodnight," she murmured, turned and headed toward the door.

She paused as her hand rested on the handle. She reached up, and pressed a hand to her chest, frowning.

And then she blinked.

The Lokistone was warm.

"Hm," she mused. She opened the door and slowly walked down the stairs, smiling to herself and rubbing the stone with her thumb.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review, dears! And have a listen to that music—it's beautiful! :)_


	12. Chapter 12

_Dear reviewers, I appreciate you more than you will ever know! It is because of you that this story has gained strength and inspiration, and I love you all to death. Please enjoy! _

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER TWELVE

"_Genius: the superhuman in man."_

_-Victor Hugo_

LLL

_Loki had never been one for romance—that had always been Thor's arena. Certainly, Loki had admired a few Asgardian women from afar, but since the shining Thor had always been nearby, the ladies' eyes had been on him, and not on the shadowy younger brother. Loki had always pardoned his brother, citing that he could not help it if he was charismatic and good-looking. _

_ But once, at a banquet celebrating their father's awakening from the Sleep, Loki's attention was particularly captivated by the beauty of a young lady he had been admiring from a distance for several months—and tonight, Thor noticed. With his usual lack of discretion, Thor demanded to know what was keeping his brother so silent and fixed. Secretly grateful for this forced confidence—for he had been wishing for an outlet for his sentiments, and perhaps some advice—Loki cautiously remarked on his admired lady's loveliness, the elegance of her dress, and the way her hair looked like a long waterfall of living gold. Thor, who had apparently never truly noticed this girl in all his life, took a good, long look at her that moment._

_ And then he proceeded to pay her court during all the rest of the festivities. _

_ For hours, Loki watched from a distance as his lady and his brother exchanged warm, flirtatious glances, quick banter and ringing laughter. Thor even got her to give him a lock of her unspeakably lovely hair. All the while, Loki's heart burned with a sick mixture of horror and something like hatred._

_ The next day, Loki did not make any appearance in court. He didn't even bother wearing anything that suited his rank. He wore dark trousers, a long black coat and a loose shirt, and he sat on a rock on the stony beach, feeling the spray on his face, and listening to the roar as the white-foamed surf rolled up onto the shore. Gray clouds hung low in the sky, and when the gulls cried, it made a lonely sound._

_ Loki sensed another presence—quiet and hesitant—behind him to his right. It was definitely not Thor. Slow footsteps sounded on the wet, round stones. Loki didn't look—but it didn't surprise him at all when he felt Balder sit right next to him on the stone. _

_ "Hello, Loki," Balder said, his voice soft as a murmuring stream. _

_ "Hello, Bird," Loki answered, using the nickname that he and Thor had given Balder almost instantly after his birth._

_ "You were not at dinner," Balder pointed out._

_ "You're very observant," Loki answered. _

_ "Ha. It's rather hard to miss the gaping hole between Thor and Hogun," Balder answered. "What is wrong?"_

_ Loki turned his head and looked at his brother. Balder was young and guileless—just two turns away from coming of age. He had a bright face—classically and handsomely-shaped, and ruddy. His radiant blue eyes seemed to reflect the light of the sky—and they always saw straight into the soul of whomever he spoke to. Yet his gaze never invaded, never brought awkwardness. Instead, it drew people near, and filled them with warmth. His long, curling golden hair tumbled to his shoulders, like spun sunlight. He had a quiet, listening presence, an aura of living stillness. He had no taste for learning the art of battle, or even picking up any sort of weapon. Instead, he often walked by himself in the high hills, amongst the fertile valleys, or the river countries, talking to the trees, singing to the birds. Yet, for all his wandering, he always seemed to be nearby if anyone wished to talk, or simply did not want to be alone. He had a brilliant, ready smile, and did not know a stranger. He made a point of befriending every newcomer to court, and always learning everyone's name. Loki knew it was no wonder that all of Asgard loved his little brother. Loki certainly did. _

_ Now, Loki looked back into that penetrating blue gaze, then glanced down._

_ "Nothing is wrong," he lied, even though he knew it was just an exercise. Balder knew him too well._

_ However, Loki's little brother did not speak for several minutes. Finally, Balder took a deep breath and folded his arms over his chest._

_ "I wonder if Thor would like Lady Sif so well if she didn't have such golden hair."_

_ Loki's heart clenched and he tightened his mouth. _

_ "Why wouldn't he?" Loki muttered. Balder shrugged._

_ "I don't know. I certainly think it is beautiful, but I would rather that the lady be lovely in her heart."_

_ Loki rolled his eyes._

_ "I doubt Thor knows anything about her heart," he muttered._

_ "I wonder if he would take the time to learn it," Balder mused._

_ "What—if she _didn't_ have gold hair?" Loki frowned at him, confused. He canted his head. "Are you suggesting something?"_

_ Balder looked at him in surprise. _

_ "No. Are you?"_

_ Loki lifted an eyebrow._

_ "What do you think I was suggesting?"_

_ "I'm not sure," Balder confessed._

_ "That I ought to change her hair another color?" Loki asked. Balder's brow darkened._

_ "Were you thinking of doing that, Loki?"_

"_No," Loki stated. He glared out at the water. "Besides, I can't, even if I wanted to. I can't change another Aesir's appearance—only my own." He glanced down at his hands, rubbing his thumbs against each other. "Changing someone else's looks is a talent that Father did not pass down to me."_

_ "Hm," Balder said lightly. "Well, I'm glad."_

_ "Of what, exactly?" _

_ "I wondered if you might be up to some mischief, since you weren't at dinner," Balder gave him a sparkling look. "But I see you're wiser than that."_

_ "This time," Loki corrected, smiling crookedly. They fell silent for a moment. Then, Balder straightened._

_ "Would you come flying with me?" he asked. "I need someone to show me the way through the south canyons."_

_ Loki hesitated, wanting to stay on the beach and brood. But he knew his younger brother was trying to stave off his foul humor, and he was grateful. So he managed a smile, and nodded._

_ "All right. I will go get ready."_

_ So Loki went with his brother, and they exhausted themselves and came home late. That night, Loki slept better than he had anticipated, and the next day he awoke, dressed, ate, and kept to his own apartments for most of the morning. Everything was quiet, albeit solitary, for him for several hours._

_ Until she came._

_ Loki hardly recognized her when she came storming into his greeting room with a full body guard. She wore a long scarlet gown that swept the floor, her familiar eyes blazed—and her _jet black_ hair tumbled loose down to her waist._

_ "Lady…Lady Sif?" Loki stammered, starting toward her, then stopping at the look of fury in her eyes. "What—"_

_ "A bird came to my window and told me," Sif ground out. "That _you _are the one who transformed the color of my hair, because you were jealous of my attention to your brother."_

_ Loki was floored. His face got hot._

_ "I…No," Loki shook his head. "I didn't do that."_

_ "Of course you did!" Sif stormed. "Who else would do something like this?"_

_ Loki's mind raced. He had played tricks on people before—enough to build up a reputation amongst the Aesir—so he could see why she might come to this conclusion. But Loki could not change someone else's appearance—it was beyond his ability. But who would? _

_And she had been _told _that he had done this—by a _bird_…?_

_ No one knew of his jealousy except…_

_ Except…_

_ Balder. _

_ Balder?_

_ Impossible! He would never do something so petty…_

_ Unless he had inherited Odin's ability to change others' appearance—and maybe—just maybe—he was trying to see if Thor would love Sif if she did not have such striking hair. Then, after proving his point, he would change it back…_

_But if Loki tried to explain all of that to Sif, she would never believe it. Who would ever believe that someone as innocent as Balder would be so meddlesome? Especially when Loki, known by all of them as the Mischief Maker, stood already accused?_

_Loki's heart sank. Deny it, and she would call him a coward. Acknowledge it, and she would hate him. Either way, to Sif, he was already guilty._

_Something must have shown in his face—grief crossed his brow—because Sif's look of rage broke, and she stepped toward him with bright, soft eyes._

"_Please, Loki?" she pleaded. "Please, can you change it back?"_

_He gazed long into her eyes, his heart twisting, then swallowed hard and spread his hands._

_ "I can't." _

_ Her expression froze. Crystal tears fell. Then, she slapped him across the face. His head came around as her palm stung his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and did not watch as she whirled and left the room. _

_Then lo, during the next few days, just as Loki and Balder had discussed, Thor seemed to lose interest in Lady Sif. He called on her once or twice, but soon ceased, and when she sent him messages, he either sent a distracted reply or forgot altogether. When Loki had swallowed his fury and embarrassment and confusion long enough to speak, he confronted Thor about his treatment of her. But Thor retaliated, calling him a hypocrite, telling him he was acting childish and silly by turning Sif's hair black. He commanded him to return it to gold. Loki, sick and trapped, told him that was not in his power. This enraged Thor, and he would not speak to Loki for a long time. Loki and vowed to never talk of Sif to him again. _

_ But the damage had been done. Sif had fallen in love with Thor. Loki could see it in her dark eyes whenever she was in Thor's company. Thor had declared to the Warriors Three that the lady just didn't suit him after all—she was not delicate enough. In fact, she was a rough-handed warrior, skilled in all manner of weaponry. He found this attractive in a friend, but not a wife._ _Seeing her practical value as a fighter, Thor drew her into his circle of elite soldiers, pleading her case before Odin to allow her, the first maiden ever, to fight in battle alongside him. _

_ Sif soon became one of Asgard's finest, a brilliant strategist and leader in her own right. She won fame and glory in battle after battle, until all of Asgard—and even some of Midgard—knew her name. _

_ Loki was the only one who knew she truly fought for Thor. She acted on his command alone, and never believed she had done well until he smiled on her._

_ But her hair never turned gold again._

_ And Loki remained, near and constant as Thor's shadow, silent and cold, his bitterness poisoning any feelings he had once had for this woman. It took a long while for Loki's anger at Thor to ease—but ease it did, as soon as Thor forgot a little and became open and affectionate toward Loki again. It was different with Loki's other brother. Ever after, though Balder assured him he had no idea what had happened, the wound of Loki's broken confidence remained raw. No matter how he tried, he could not forget that his little brother had done something intentionally wicked, and had let Loki take the blame._

LLLL

In the haze of lavender twilight, as the wind blew over the sea, carrying the scent of salt and rain, Thor, bereft of Mjollnir, strode slowly out onto the Asbru bridge. He watched his feet make flashes of light and a ringing tone on the multi-colored bridge with each step he took. He glanced up and ahead of him, at the limitless space filled with galaxies and nebula and billions of stars. And there, at the end of the shattered bridge, he caught the glint of Heimdall's golden armor.

Thor walked slowly, heavily, and so it took a long time for him to reach the gatekeeper's side. When he did, he paused on the edge of the abyss, casting a look down at the jagged, fractured end he had created. He listened to the water as it tumbled over the edge—felt the wind on in his hair as the breeze blew out into space, then curled back toward Asgard after the shield sent it home.

"You have not come to inquire of me for a very long time, my prince," Heimdall noted, his voice even and low as he rested his right hand on the butt of his mighty sword.

"My mother said that each time I came back from speaking with you, I seemed sad," Thor answered. "She asked me to stop—or at least not come to you so frequently."

"The queen is a wise woman," Heimdall said. Thor took a deep breath and nodded.

"And has her suggestion made you happier?" Heimdall asked. Thor's eyes flickered across the distant stars.

"No," he confessed. "But perhaps it has made _her _happier."

A long silence stretched between them as the surf distantly rumbled.

"Do you still wish to know if I am watching Earth?" Heimdall finally asked. "Or did you only come to gaze at the stars?"

Thor took another breath—it was tighter this time—then nodded again.

"Tell me what you see."

"I will tell you, my prince," Heimdall answered. "If you will hear all of what I have to say."

Thor's brow furrowed, and he turned to study Heimdall's solemn profile.

"Tell me, Heimdall," he urged. "What has happened?"

"Upon your request," Heimdall began. "I often turned my gaze toward Earth after the breaking of the bridge, and I watched your mortal woman, the one called Jane. I saw her search, I saw her study—I saw her gain hope of seeing you again. But then, something odd began to catch my eye. A vacuum, a blur. Someone had come near to her—someone I could not quite see."

Thor turned toward the gatekeeper, watching him closely.

"Curious, I watched, and puzzled over this cloudy presence," Heimdall went on.  
"At first, I thought it might be a danger to her—but she did not seem afraid, nor did the people around her. Their words sounded unusually muffled to me—and when the mortals paused so the stranger could answer, I could not hear his voice. I continued to watch, using all of my strength to penetrate the cloud this person had cast around himself that so muddled my power. But then, tonight, he revealed himself."

"On purpose?" Thor asked. Heimdall shook his head.

"No. I am confident he did not mean to."

Thor leaned toward him.

"Who is it?"

Heimdall turned his piercing golden eyes on him.

"It is your brother."

Thor's stomach flipped, and his fists clenched. He swayed where he stood, his face going cold and then hot.

"Loki," he choked.

"Yes," Heimdall said. Thor turned away, something burning his eyes. His heart hammered against his ribs.

"He is alive?"

"Yes," Heimdall said again. Thor pressed a hand to his mouth, swallowing hard once, then again, feeling as if something jagged stuck in his throat. He lowered his hand and took a gasping breath as a jolt traveled through him.

"He vowed he would find her," he said through his teeth, turning back toward Heimdall. "He told me he would go after Jane after he had destroyed Jotunheim—"

"My prince," Heimdall interrupted. "He has done her no harm. And it does not appear as though he means to."

"This is _Loki_ we are talking about," Thor snarled.

"I know," Heimdall answered. "But if you could see what I saw, even for a moment, you would know that she is safe."

Thor hesitated, bewildered, a strange sensation twisting his gut.

"What did you see?"

Heimdall turned back toward the stars.

"I saw them standing in the clouds," Heimdall said quietly. "I saw them as clearly as I see you now, and I could hear each breath they took. I saw her feet resting on his feet, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. Jane turned her gaze up toward me—but what she saw was a rain of stars that lit up her eyes. She smiled like a child, and never took her attention from the sky. But Loki did not turn his gaze upward at all. Always, he attended to her. He set his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes, and held her hands to keep her warm. He spoke gently to her, and held her fast so she would not fall. And then he took her back down, through the clouds, and they landed atop a roof—the roof of a building where Jane does her searching. And for a moment, they stood and gazed at each other." Heimdall took a breath. "And then he hid himself from my sight again."

For a long while, Thor stared at the gatekeeper. Finally, he turned away, his vision clouding, his heart pulled in a thousand directions.

"I must trust you, Heimdall," Thor said, his voice breaking. "Are you…You are certain he will not harm her?"

"I am certain…" Heimdall said. "…that, somehow, he feels indebted to her. For it is hard to know, my prince, what happened to him after he fell from this bridge, and how broken his body may have been. It is possible that she saved his life." He paused a moment, then his voice deepened. "I have seen many worlds and many beings—long histories and wars and betrayals caused by cowards and traitors with guile in their hearts and vengeance in their hands. And I can say to you with honesty, my prince," he looked again at Thor. "That though I searched, I could see none of that in Loki. Not this time."

Thor stood for a long time, eyes closed, trying to even out his breathing.

"Keep watch over them, Heimdall," Thor said hoarsely. "And tell me if you see him again."

"I will obey," Heimdall answered—and Thor finally found the strength to turn away and stride back to Asgard.

LLLLL

"You're kidding me," Darcy gave Jane a look over the top of her glasses. "Because they're not letting you touch the Cube, that means you can't go to the bunker, hence _none _of us get to see Tony Stark now?"

Jane heaved a sigh and sat down at the lunch table in front of her sandwich.

"Don't rub it in, Darcy, please," she groaned, scooting up to the table. "I already feel sick enough about this whole thing."

"But that was like, the whole reason I came back," Darcy said, plopping down into the chair to Jane's right. "Aside from seeing Fenris again, of course." She gave him a bright smile.

"Of course," Fenris said, sitting down on Jane's left with a cup of tea. Jane glanced at him. He was wearing his usual clothes again—boots, jeans, a dark collared shirt—but that look in his eyes hadn't gone away. In fact, she caught it again when he glanced back at her and gave her a small smile.

"It can't be helped," Erik said, sitting down across from Jane and starting to butter toast. "When we agreed to this project, we also agreed to their terms. And if we can't go to the bunker, and that's the only place Stark is allowed to go, then we can't see him. At this point, anyway. But I wouldn't give up all hope that sometime we might—"

A distant rumble interrupted him. They all stopped what they were doing and glanced up. Then, all the silverware and glasses started rattling.

"Is that a plane?" Darcy asked. Jane's breathing sped up.

"If it is, it's flying _really _low…" Jane murmured.

The rumbling turned into a deep scream, making the walls and floor shake. Jane reached down and snatched Fenris' wrist. Erik jumped to his feet.

"What—" he started.

Then, something flashed out in the back parking—

And a tall, red-and-gold, shining metal man descended to the paving, energy radiating from his hands and feet that sent dust blasting away from him. He landed with a heavy thud. Jane leaped to her feet and whirled around. Fenris grabbed her, pushing her behind him—she could feel his fear in his touch.

"Fenris, it's okay," she gasped, taking hold of his elbow.

"It is a Destroyer—" Fenris snapped.

"No," Jane shook her head. "It's—"

"Iron Man," Darcy finished.

Jane broke away from Fenris and darted to the back door, hearing Darcy follow on her heels.

"Jane?" Fenris called, clearly confused. Jane didn't answer. She pushed the door open, the wind hit her face…

And she slowed, overpowered with awe, as she watched.

The helmed head turned toward her, the slitted glowing eyes fixing on her. Then, the red portions of the towering armor, like scales on a fish, began lifting and retracting, rippling back and away into hidden compartments. He held out his arms to the sides as the armor clattered and clacked, opening to reveal the gold and silver inner-workings beneath. The chest plate withdrew, the leg armor folded upward and clicked back into place, the shoulder coverings hid, and the helmet flipped open and back and disappeared. At last, the whole thing slipped off his arms, leaving him holding two handles, the rest of it open like a crayfish. He set it on the ground, and shoved the handles down—

And it all folded at one hinged point, closed and neatly latched. Then, a dark-haired, middle-aged man grasped the handle and picked it up, as if it were a briefcase he was taking to the office.

Jane stared at him. He was good-looking, with mussed hair and a short, interesting mustache and beard. He had quick black eyes and smile-lines, but an intensity in his heavy eyebrows. He was well-built, but shorter than Jane had imagined. He wore a slightly loose black body suit that allowed his chest piece through, and gloves and boots. Jane couldn't keep a baffled smile from her face.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this," he said lightly, striding toward her. "But those SHIELD bums said I wasn't going to get to see you, so I decided to take matters into my own hands."

"Tony Stark?" she managed. He gave her a grin and stuck out his hand.

"Jane Foster, I assume," he said. She shook his hand.

"It's a pleasure," he said. "Yeah, I've heard all about you."

"You…You have?" Jane stammered.

"Well, not enough," Stark admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "Just that you're beautiful _and _a genius. That's a good combination."

Jane tried not to blush or giggle. She didn't really succeed.

"_And," _Stark went on."I've heard that you've been keeping a guy here who's from another planet."

"Realm," a serpentine voice came from behind Jane. "They're known as realms."

Stark's gaze fixed on someone past Jane, and his expression completely changed.

"Right, realms," Stark said quietly. He raised his eyebrows. "Are you him?"

Jane glanced back. Fenris stood there by the door, arms crossed over his chest, looking at Stark as if he was watching a snake.

"I am," Fenris said. Stark put down his armor briefcase, and stepped past Darcy and Erik to stand in front of the taller man.

"It's truly an honor," Stark said sincerely. "And not that I'm not totally thrilled to see Miss Foster—but you're actually the one I came to see." He held out his hand, palm up. Fenris studied it for a moment, then his green eyes flicked up to Jane's. She nodded quickly. Then, Fenris looked back at Stark—and shook his hand. Stark grinned at him, then glanced back at Jane.

"Hey, I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, because I'm not, but this suit is killing me," he pulled on the collar. "Do you mind if we go inside where it's a little cooler?"

"Not at all," Jane said faintly, because that was all the volume she could muster. So, Tony Stark grabbed his suit-case, and the five of them trailed into her lab, both Darcy and Jane grinning like idiots.

LLLL

Jane sat back in her chair, one leg tucked underneath her, and continued her study of Tony Stark. Tony sat directly across from her, in the corner of the couch, and leisurely draped one arm across the back, whilst taking a long drink of iced tea. A captivated Darcy sat on one end of the couch to Tony's left, and Erik sat to Tony's right. Fenris, however, had not strayed from Jane's side, and sat stiffly in a chair next to her, his hands folded in his lap.

"This is fantastic, thank you," Tony said to Jane, lifting the glass of tea, then setting it on the coffee table amidst all of the books. Then he took a deep breath and looked back and forth between Jane and Fenris. "Okay, I only have about a billion questions to ask you, and I have no idea where to start."

"Who are you?" Fenris asked. Tony blinked.

"Um, sure," he suddenly laughed. "Yeah, that would make sense. Well, I'm…I'm Anthony Stark, my dad's name was Howard—he was a genius. I kinda take after him. I'm an engineer, scientist, and otherwise known as the Iron Man. And…I don't think I caught your name."

Fenris waited a beat, not breaking eye contact with Tony.

"Fenris, son of Aerid," he finally said—and Jane could feel ice in his tone. "I was a guard on the Asbru Bridge."

"Um, that would be one of my billion questions—that Asbru Bridge thing," Tony pointed at him. Fenris' eyes narrowed.

"What is the Iron Man?"

Tony cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"It's me. But it's also a suit. It's this thing, here, that folded up," Tony said, tapping the case with his toe. "It's…It's an advanced prosthesis, really, armed with weapons. I use it to protect people, to stop the bad guys."

"How does it operate?" Fenris asked. Tony winced and glanced at Erik.

"It's a bit complicated…"

Fenris' eyes flashed.

"Do try to explain."

Tony sat there a moment, studying him, then slowly leaned back. His brow furrowed. Fenris tilted his head, allowing a small smile.

"See? This interests me so much. I do not know you, and you do not know me," he said smoothly. "But you behave just like the members of SHIELD, and so many other Midgardians, who act as if they _do _know me, and command me to tell them all about myself and my home and my passage to this realm." Fenris' voice hardened. "Yet they shut me out of their bunkers, rarely tell me their true names, and remain unwilling to part with any of their own secrets." Fenris shrugged. "As a result, I mistrust them, and give them nothing of what they truly want." He gave Tony an iron look. "So tell me, son of Howard," he said. "Why should I trust you?"

For a long, tense moment, Jane didn't breathe as the two men locked gazes, saying nothing. Tony's face was dead serious. Fenris' bore a minute, cold smile of challenge.

Then, suddenly, Tony shifted.

"Screw it," he muttered, stood up and stepped around the coffee table. Jane sat up, startled. Tony picked up a stack of books and moved them, then sat on the coffee table. He was now eye level with Jane and Fenris—but he looked only at Fenris, whose eyes had narrowed. Tony braced his left hand on his knee, and lifted the right to gesture as he spoke.

"I have several different sets of armor," he said. "And even though each of them has lots of different capabilities, they're the same in that they're all made of incredibly strong alloy of titanium and gold, and they're reinforced by force-fields."

Jane saw something spark behind Fenris' cold exterior. His gaze sharpened like a hawk's.

"Force-fields. You mean invisible shielding," Fenris noted. Tony nodded.

"Yep. Also, all my suits have a self-contained environments, all kinds of weapons systems, flight capability, and all sorts of communication devices and sensors."

"Such as?" Fenris asked.

"Radar, radio…" Tony explained.

Fenris frowned.

"Things that enable you to see far away, or in the dark," Tony amended. "Like—"

"By way of heat. Or echo," Fenris ventured.

"Aha—yeah, both," Tony said, snapping his fingers. "Um, I've also got jets in the boots and the repulsors in the gloves—you saw those. The ones in the hands are for steering, but I can use them for weapons."

Fenris glanced at him sideways. Jane hid her smile—Fenris' hands had begun to work—he rubbed his fingers together. There was no way he could disguise his interest now.

"How, exactly?" Fenris wondered.

"Um, I call them Pulse Bolts," Tony said. "They're concussive energy blasts that actually gain energy the further they travel. They're real bone-breakers. I can also shoot something like that out of my chest." He tapped his finger on the center of the glowing blue circle of his chest piece. Jane watched as Fenris' eyes locked on that chest piece—and his gaze flickered. When he spoke, his voice had changed.

"What is this magic?"

"What? No, it's not magic, it's an arc reactor," Tony said, glancing down at it. "It's a clean energy source. The first one I made wasn't powerful enough for my second suit, so I developed a new one. _Then, _it started poisoning me with palladium. So I had to develop a completely new element for a power source, which fit into my new suit, the Mark Six." Tony kicked his head back and gave a half smile. "It's pretty awesome. But it's not magic."

Fenris still stared at the reactor.

"Oh, yes it is," he stated, and held out his pale hand toward it.

The arc reactor's light blazed, and a high, musical hum issued from it. Tony sat up, ramrod straight, his eyes going wide. Jane felt a flash of terror, along with a strange heat against the skin of her chest—

And Fenris lowered his hand. The light on the reactor faded. Tony blinked.

"Holy…crap," Tony choked, his hand pressing against his reactor. He stared at Fenris. "What the heck was that?"

"What did you do?" Erik demanded, standing up.

"Are you okay?" Darcy gasped.

"I'm incredible," Tony declared, flexing his hands. "That just…I'm not sure what that was, but I think I felt every nerve in my body. Not in a bad way, though, just—" He frowned at Fenris. "What did you do?"

Fenris was looking at him differently now—like a puzzle with a few pieces he couldn't find.

"You have five small bits of metal imbedded in the tissue around your heart," he said. "That device is keeping them from killing you."

Now it was Tony's turn to gape.

"Okay, how did you know that?"

Fenris smiled.

"First, I want to know how it happened," he pointed at Tony's chest.

"Okay, fine," Tony grunted, shifting where he sat. "I'll do story time for a minute here, but then you've gotta tell me what you just did with your X-ray hand or whatever."

Fenris just waited. Nevertheless, Tony leaned forward, his eyes blazing, and began.

"I was in the Middle East demonstrating a new missile-launching technology—one that would take out several targets at once—and my convoy was attacked. I got out of the Hummer before it exploded and hid behind a rock. I tried to call for help, but a grenade landed right next to me in the sand…"

LLLLL

Fenris listened to Tony's story without interrupting once—though the two men, led by Fenris, moved to the couch to sit instead. The rest of them sat completely still, and Jane hardly breathed. She had heard Tony Stark's incredible story from the news, of course, and had done a little research of her own to satisfy her curiosity—but she had never imagined how many of the details had been left out or softened.

Like the fact that Tony had barely survived a meatball, morphine-induced surgery that removed half a dozen pieces of shrapnel from his chest cavity. That he had awakened to find a magnet imbedded in his chest, attached to a car battery—a horrifying device that nevertheless preserved his life—one that was invented by the doctor who had operated on him. A man named Yinsen. A man who became his friend.

How his captors had nearly drowned him after he refused to construct the Jericho missile for the terrorists. How he had sat there by the fire, realizing he was going to die.

Then, how the wise Yinsen had inspired him, motivated him, to pull out the best of his genius to find a way to escape. And how the two of them, out of scraps and wire, had first constructed the small arc reactor, and then the first tank-like Iron Man suit. How Yinsen had sacrificed his life for Tony's while buying him time to escape. How Tony had been found in the desert after a fiery exit from the compound, and how he had returned to the United States and built a new suit, only to be betrayed by the one he had looked to as a father for decades.

Fenris watched Tony's expressions and movements without wavering. He sat sideways on the couch, facing Tony, his left elbow propped on the back of it, his forefinger draped across his lips. At first, his gaze was sharp, critical, penetrating—distrustful and testing. Once in a while, he would lift an eyebrow.

But then, as Tony's storytelling went on, Jane saw a subtle change in his face. She doubted anyone else noticed it at first, but it intensified and softened at the same time. Also, Jane supposed that Tony hadn't had a rapt, un-interrupting audience in a very long time, for his disjointed speech became smoother, more connected, and his gestures pointed and focused. At last, when Tony came to the part about Obadiah Stane's betrayal and death, Fenris dropped his arm and linked his fingers together—and the hardness vanished from his brow.

When Tony finished, he tightened one side of his face in a characteristic wince, shrugged, and held out his hands for a second. Then he sat back, and waited. Fenris gazed back at him a moment, then sat up. Jane held her breath. Fenris' lips parted, he glanced down, then met Tony's eyes—

And began to teach him. He told him all about what he had done with his hand to discover the nature of Tony's reactor—how he could extend his own energy and connect it to the moving, living energy of the universe, which included both Tony's physical self and the magnetic battery. This, of course, fascinated Tony, and the two of them plunged into a detailed discussion of arc reactor technology, and the new element that Tony had created for the reactor. Jane managed to mentally keep up with the discussion, but Fenris was always two steps ahead of her.

Occasionally, Jane glanced at Erik and Darcy. Erik, his brow tight, listened as if his life depended on it—Jane knew he was completely absorbed. Darcy probably wasn't interested in the technical talk, but Jane knew that she loved watching people interact. Personally, Jane was enchanted by both.

Because from the subject of the arc reactor, the Asgardian and the Iron Man jumped to the subject of "tactile magic"—energy that did not have to be channeled through wires or conduits—and that subject led to Fenris' armor, and its vanishing capabilities and the reasons for it. And _that_ led to Asgard.

Jane listened, a slow and delighted smile coming over her face, as the two men completely forgot everything else—including time—and dove headfirst into the most complicated and technical dialogue about wormholes, the advantages and disadvantages of traveling that way compared to faster-than-light travel, and the great and dangerous power of the bifrost. The concept of the bifrost kept Tony enraptured for at least an hour, and Fenris swiftly, but in great detail, lined it out from its elementary function to its most abstract possibility—and sometimes, Tony cut in with such specific questions and perfect observations that they shocked Fenris back. When Fenris was thus impressed, he would pause a moment, blink—and then escalate the talk to its next level of technicality, until even Jane had to chuckle in bafflement and stop trying to understand. But Tony Stark knew no such limit.

Later in the afternoon, Erik, Darcy and Jane got up to make supper, but they stayed as quiet as they could as they moved around the kitchenette, for Jane still wanted to hear the conversation.

Fenris and Tony stayed on the couch, entirely focused. With calculated gestures, Fenris explained the placement of the realms in the World Tree, and Tony memorized their names instantly. And as Jane brought them their food and they all sat down to eat, Fenris explained that Tony had harnessed a power to run his heart that Asgardians had _within_ them—it was generated in Asgard by the Golden Apples of Idunn, and that they kept the Aesir young and alive for thousands of years. Fenris said that this power was part of their physical makeup, and manifested in different abilities—although he confessed that even the magic-master Prince Loki couldn't fully explain it.

After dinner, though, things shifted. Tony wiped his mouth on a napkin, took a drink and turned to Jane, and asked her to tell him all about her research. Instantly, she had both Tony and Fenris' undivided attention.

Flattered that _Tony Stark_ would be actually interested in _her _research, she started at the beginning, with her very first discoveries, and led up to the present day. Tony didn't know much about astrophysics, and Fenris wasn't familiar with the terms, so a lively discussion picked up in which Jane both taught them and served as interpreter between Tony and Fenris concerning the laws of the stars and the passages between realms.

This discussion did two things: it clearly amused Erik, and it clearly _bored _Darcy. Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Darcy pick up a book and start to read it, and as the sky outside turned black, Darcy mumbled a goodnight and headed out to her trailer. Erik stayed for a good long time after, while she and Fenris alternated telling Tony about the planets known to Midgardians and those known only to those in Asgard, and how they operated in the same universe. However, around midnight or so, Erik stood up stiffly. Jane was in the middle of a sentence about how unique Earth's sun was when she felt Erik pat the back of her head and say goodnight. Jane didn't even miss a beat in what she was saying, and only absently noticed the door click as he left.

Finally, Tony leaned back and rubbed his eyes.

"Holy crap, it's two in the morning," he muttered, squinting down at his watch. Jane laughed and rubbed her face.

"Feels like I'm in college again," she commented. "Staying up late talking about geeky science stuff…"

"Hey, it's what makes the world go round," Tony answered. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Well, my initial idea was to drop by and then fly home, but now I think I might fall asleep and run myself into the ground. Where's the nearest hotel where I can crash?"

"You can have my trailer," Jane yawned. "Darcy's got an extra bed in hers—I'll sleep there."

"Oh, my gosh—are you sure?" Tony sat up.

"_Yes_," Jane said firmly. "And I say that because I've _been _in this town's hotel. I wouldn't let my worst enemy stay there, let alone one of my friends." Jane's drowsiness snapped, and she realized how familiar she had just acted. But Tony just smiled—a real smile—and nodded at her.

"Thank you."

Jane felt Fenris watching her, but she didn't have time to analyze his gaze, for Tony spoke again.

"Hey, is the restroom back this way?" he asked, pointing.

"Yeah, go ahead," Jane nodded. Tony left, and Jane finally met Fenris' eyes. She canted her head at the sight of his calm, sparkling gaze.

"What?" she wondered.

"Are you sure he's from Midgard?" he asked softly. Jane just laughed, which elicited a grin from him.

The phone rang. Jane's smile fell from her face.

"Who would be calling in the middle of the night?" she muttered, getting up and striding toward it. She picked it up, worry flooding her, and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Miss Foster," said a deep voice she instantly recognized as Nick Fury's.

"Yes?"

"Get your colleagues together—we're coming over."

"Why? What happened?" Jane's heartbeat sped up.

Fury paused, and when he spoke next, his voice was grave.

"We found out what this Cube does."

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	13. Chapter 13

_My dear reviewers, you make it all worth it. Thank you so very much. I hope you continue to enjoy!_

_(The story excerpts in this section are taken __from __Stolen Thunder__ by Shirley Climo, Illustrated by Alexander Koshkin.)_

LLLL

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

_Loki hesitated in the doorway of the feasting hall, his legs weak. It was loud inside—the voices and clanging of goblets and plates echoed against the alabaster. The hall was packed with as many people as it could hold, for it was Balder's Coming-of-Age celebration, and no one wished to miss it._

_ Loki swallowed hard, ducked his head and stepped inside, weaving through the courtiers and avoiding eye contact. He smoothed the front of his formal black tunic and adjusted his cuffs, feigning being busy, until he came to the end of the table where his mother sat. Balder's usual seat next to her was empty. Loki glanced up to the head of the table, and saw what he had been completely expecting._

_ Odin sat at the opposite end, Thor to his right—and Balder to Thor's right, in Loki's usual place. The blond brothers—one beauty and one brawn—laughed heartily together as Odin smiled upon them. Loki watched, feeling disconnected, and slipped down to sit next to his mother._

_ "Hello, Sweetheart!" Frigg said brightly as soon as he sat. She scooted closer to him, stroked his hair back at the temple and kissed his cheek. "I didn't know you were coming to see me."_

_ He glanced at her and faked a smile, then returned his attention to the far end of the table. _

_ "I missed you," Loki answered with complete honesty—he could spare no strength at the moment to be more trivial. His mother said something in reply, but he did not hear it. Nor did he hear the raucous Volstaag entertaining all the noisy guests with a thrilling tale of recent battle. Loki's eyes were fixed on his brothers._

_ Thor ate and joked with his father and Balder, his blue eyes sparkling with open affection. Often, he would slap Balder's shoulder, put his arm around him, muss his hair, or lean in to tell him confidential that would make the younger man burst out laughing. Balder's countenance was shining and innocent as ever—enchanting and warm. _

_ But then he turned his golden head, once, and looked right at Loki. _

_ Memories, freshly made, flashed through Loki's mind._

_ A dark corridor, filled with strange, metallic noises and dim flashes... _

_ A caught glimpse in the night of a short, silver sword, harder than any armor of the Aesir..._

_ A knife pressed to the skin of Loki's throat, ramming up underneath his jaw…_

_ A hissed threat close to his ear…_

_ "Stay silent, fool, and stay out of my way—or I will tell Father how you have learned to hide yourself from Heimdall…"_

_ Hammering horror and disbelief pulsing through his veins as he realized the truth…_

_ Choked questions filled with "why"…_

_ A voice like a summer breeze…words like the bite of acid…_

_ "No one would believe a word you said if you spoke of this. But if you do not interfere, I will remember you, when others do not. I will lift you high, instead of burying you here where you are. For as long as the present things remain, you will barely remain a prince. Though you ought to be next in line, you would never be king. For _I _know what you are, Loki. What you _truly _are…" _

_ Now, Loki blinked as Balder turned back to the others. Loki swallowed hard, beginning to breathe again, his brow tight. _

_ "Sweetheart," Frigg murmured softly. "Are you all right? You keep looking at Thor and Balder—you are not worried that Balder has taken your place at the table, are you? I promise, it is just for tonight."_

_ Loki only absently heard her. For just then, Thor glanced down the way and met Loki's eyes, and gave him a broad, happy grin. Loki lifted his chin in reply, unable to summon a smile. Instead, his heart twisted with sudden, fearful pain._

_ Balder replacing him at the table?_

_ That was the least of his worries._

LLLLLLL

Loki stood outside in the back parking with Jane, the side of his right arm touching her shoulder. He put his hands in his pockets, his jaw tense as he watched the headlights approach. Stark, Erik and Darcy also stood nearby, waiting. For once, none of them said anything in remark. The night wind tossed their hair and clothes.

The black car rumbled up to them and stopped. Its headlamps switched off. Then, in the orange light of the parking lot lamp, Nick Fury and Agent Coulson stepped out of the car and strode up to them. Their shoes crunched on the gravel.

"Mr. Stark, may I politely inquire as to where in the world you've been all day?" Agent Coulson said without preamble.

"Uh, visiting these guys," Stark gestured to the rest of them.

"You should have been at the bunker," Coulson said. "We could have used your help today."

"What did you discover?" Erik asked from Loki's other side. Loki watched both new men. Coulson fell silent, and glanced to Fury. The tall man drew himself up, brushed his coat back and put his hands in his pockets.

"We have discovered—at least theoretically—what the Cube can do," Fury said.

"Were we right?" Jane asked, taking a step toward him. "Can it affect space and time? Can it reorder matter? Can it—"

"It can do everything we imagined, and more," Fury answered. "At the command of whoever holds it."

Loki went still as ice.

"What the heck are you talking about?" Stark asked, coming up to stand on Loki's left. "That this is some sort of remote control to change how things are made and put together?"

"More like a genii in a bottle," Fury corrected, his eye glittering in the dark. "Our theories have been confirmed by new evidence we just uncovered: previously hidden research done on this object more than half a century ago. Apparently, our little discovery is called the Cosmic Cube—and it can do anything. Its only limit is the strength, skill and imagination of the one who uses it."

Silence fell.

"Um…that sounds bad," Darcy murmured.

"Bad? Are you kidding? This is…This is incredible!" Jane crowed, turning a beaming smile to Darcy, Erik, then Loki. "We can rebuild the bridge to Asgard! From there, we could travel anywhere, see _anything _in the universe! Think of what we could discover, what we could create if we didn't have to worry about the distance or the boundaries or the—"

"I'm pleased to hear how pure your intentions are, Miss Foster," Fury interrupted. "However, SHIELD tends to share Darcy's opinion."

The smile fell from Jane's face and she looked at Darcy, then back at Fury.

"What do you mean?"

"He means that this Cube, in the wrong hands, could be an unstoppable force for destruction," Coulson stated. Loki felt himself swallow, and he tried to take a deep breath. It didn't come.

"Which is why we're moving it," Fury said. Loki's head came up. Jane started.

"Moving it? Moving it where?"

Loki studied Coulson and Fury like a hawk. But their faces showed nothing.

"We're not revealing that information at this time," Fury told her. All of Jane's humor left her bearing. Her eyes became dangerous.

"You're not revealing that information?" she snapped. "_What?_ What are you talking about? Do you not remember who this is you're talking to?"

"Jane, perhaps we can reach a compromise—" Erik tried. She ignored him.

"_I _am the one who detected the astral anomalies that led you to _Thor!" _she shouted, pointing to herself. "_Proving _that there are other realms in other galaxies belonging to superior, practically-immortal races that could teach us thousands of years worth of valuable information!" Jane's voice rose and she waved her arms in rage. "You invited me to consult on this Cube project _because _of that, but every single time something important happens with it, you shut me out like I'm some intern! And _now _you're going to take that Cube someplace and _hide _it from me just when we've made the biggest breakthrough of all?"

Loki's heart began to speed up as nausea invaded his gut. He ducked his head, trying to calm himself. Jane caught his movement.

"And what about Fenris?" she demanded, gesturing to him. "Have you forgotten about him? Have you forgotten how he got stranded here because Thor was trying to protect _us _from his brother who was _killing _everyone? He has _no _way to get home if we don't figure something out."

"Jane…" Loki tried, but he couldn't summon much volume.

"Really, Nick—you're not going to send the guy home?" Stark asked. Loki's gaze flicked to him for an instant, but Stark was frowning at Fury, his arms crossed. Fury finally met Loki's gaze.

"Who knows what we'd be sending him home to," he said.

"What do you mean?" Erik wondered. Fury glanced at Jane's mentor.

"We have no idea if Thor survived the encounter with his brother," Fury said. "For all we know, Asgard is under Loki's control."

"That would be bad, too," Darcy muttered, prodding a rock with the toe of her shoe.

"So, what, we're not even going to try?" Jane cried, her voice suddenly unsteady. Loki's gaze flashed to her, and lingered on the lines between her eyebrows, and the brightness in her eyes.

"Miss Foster, you misunderstand me," Fury held up a hand. "We came to tell you that the Cube is being moved because we want you to be prepared to travel in the near future to its location. We _want _you to continue studying it, and we _want _to be able to use its power for just the sort of discoveries you're talking about." Fury looked to Loki again. "We also want to be able to repay our debt to Thor for stopping at least one threat that his brother posed, and we will certainly try to return our friend Fenris to his home."

"But we know how extremely dangerous it is now. That's why we just don't feel comfortable speaking out loud about the Cube's destination at this point," Coulson added. "But we certainly will once it's been safely transported. To you, anyway."

Loki watched Jane take a deep breath, then another. Finally, she swallowed and nodded.

"Good," she muttered, glancing away. Loki's heart panged, and he stepped closer to her. She wrapped her arms around herself. Coulson gave her a rare smile.

"We do value your input, Miss Foster," he assured her. "More than you know."

She gave a quick nod. Loki could tell she was embarrassed by her outburst—she wouldn't look at them.

"Stark," Fury clipped.

"Yep?" Stark stood up straight.

"You brought your suit, I presume?"

"Travel size," Stark answered. "Nothing fancy."

"I'd appreciate it if you would get it and come with us," Fury motioned to him. "We'd like some firepower and some eyes in the sky while we move this thing."

"Am I going to get to sleep at all tonight?" Stark muttered, turning back toward the door.

"Hey, you would have gotten a few hours' sleep if you'd been where you were supposed to," Fury answered back.

"Oh, yeah right," Stark said as he opened the door and went inside. Fury turned back to Erik, Darcy, Jane and Loki.

"We'll be in contact," he said, then headed to the passenger side door of the car, while Coulson headed to the driver's side. Loki turned when the lab door opened again and Stark came out, carrying his suit-case.

"Well," he sighed, stopping in front of Erik. "It's been too quick for my taste, but duty calls." He stuck out his hand and shook hands with Darcy and Erik, then came over and took Jane's hand.

"You're a genius," he told her, looking at her solemnly and keeping hold of her fingers. "And just 'cause these jerks tell you that you can't do something, it should never stop you. It's your research, it's your goal, it's your dream." He lowered his head and raised his eyebrows. "Remember that, okay?"

"Thanks," Jane said, managing an oddly shaky smile. Stark then let go of her and turned to Loki.

"It's been an honor and a privilege," he said, holding out his hand. Loki took it, his stomach tightening.

"Thank you," Loki said, and meant it.

"And between you and me," Stark said. "I don't make friends very easily. But I think I did tonight." He smiled. "I'll be here if any of you need me. _Ciao_." And he turned and strode to the car and got in the back seat, after giving a lazy salute back to Loki. The car doors slammed, the engine turned on, the lights blinded them. Loki flinched away to protect his sight, and the car pulled back, turned and drove away, its rear lights glowing red as it headed into the distance.

LLLLLLLL

Loki sat on his couch, still dressed, staring at the pile of books in front of him without seeing anything. He leaned his elbows on his knees, and threaded his fingers together. He breathed shallowly, and did not move.

He could feel the Cube—feel its agitation as people moved and things shifted all around it. His insides flinched as hands touched it, as the strands that connected him to it vibrated uneasily. The binding between them had strengthened—strengthened the instant Loki knew what it truly was, what it could do.

Unlimited power. Immeasurable, infinite, limitless power. Right at his fingertips. He could take himself back to Asgard without any of the usual effort—he could _have _Asgard. All of it. And no one would be able to lift a finger against him.

And he was completely healed. He no longer felt any twinges in his side, nor any weakness in his muscles. And it did not matter where they took that Cube—Loki could find it like a light in the dark. It would be so easy. If he got up, put on his armor and left now, he could catch the convoy unawares and snatch the Cube from them before they knew what was happening…

The door opened. Loki lifted his head, his brow furrowing.

Jane, her dark hair hanging loose around her face, walked in quietly, wearing a soft pink sweater and loose fleece pants. Her arms were wrapped around herself, her head was lowered, and tension marked her forehead. Her long-lashed eyes followed her feet.

"Is something wrong?" Loki asked softly, hoping not to startle her. She looked up at him before shrugging and heading to the counter.

"Couldn't sleep. It's four in the morning, I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep."

Loki sat up, watching her as she stopped in front of the counter and began pulling things down to make tea.

"Any particular reason?" he asked. "Or just the usual—about your father?"

Jane heaved a sigh and shook her head.

"I'm actually…just really embarrassed," she said, giving a crooked smile. "I chewed out those guys for leaving me out of the project when they were actually trying to include me."

"In your defense," Loki said. "It didn't sound that way at first."

"Doesn't matter," Jane said, putting a kettle on the stove and heating up the water. "I didn't even let them finish. I just got it into my head that I was going to get shafted again, so I threw a fit."

"Shafted?" Loki wondered, eyebrows coming together. She glanced up at him—he could see the brown of her eyes in the counter light. She sighed again and started getting two cups and saucers down.

"My whole life—ever since I formed the bridge theory, really—people in the scientific community have written me off," she said. "The nicer ones say I'm just following rabbit trails. The more critical ones say I've lost my mind."

"But you haven't," Loki protested. "You're right."

"Well, _now _I know that, and so do they," Jane said over the sound of the kettle whistling. She poured the water into the teapot. "But for a long time my theories were just called craziness—so I didn't get called for conferences or experiments or any sort of exploration, NASA wouldn't have anything to do with me, and neither would any of the satellite or telescope people. Why do you think I had to make all of my equipment myself?"

Loki paused, glancing down at his hands.

"You were right, you were clever—and they ignored you."

"Yep," she said, getting out the sugar. "Shafted."

"I think I understand that," Loki murmured. For a while, neither of them said anything, the silence filled with the clinking of the white tea set. Then, as Jane poured the tea, she spoke.

"So what are _you _doing awake? You're not even in your pajamas."

"I'm not able to sleep, either," he admitted. He sensed her come nearer with a cup of tea.

"Thinking about home?" she asked. His hands tightened.

"Perhaps."

She handed him the tea, and he took it. The saucer felt so delicate between his fingers. She sat down on his left side on the couch and curled her feet up underneath her. He glanced at her.

"Are you cold?"

"No, I'm perfect," she said, taking a sip.

"Because you may use that blanket," he pointed to a folded blue fleece blanket at the end of the couch.

"No, I'm fine," she shook her head. She peered over the titles of the sprawled books. "What have you been reading?"

Loki sighed, put his tea down, reached out and pushed a few books off of a few others.

"Nothing really—although I was curious about this one." He picked up a broad but thin book with a large picture of a bearded man in a chariot pulled by huge goats. "Stolen Thunder," Loki said. "'It says it is about Thor, and his hammer being taken by the Frost Giants. But as I recall, that has never happened. Ever."

Jane leaned closer and frowned at it.

"So what happens?"

Loki held out the book to her.

"Oh, no, I'm not reading anything right now," Jane said, rubbing her eyes. "You read it."

"Then how will _you_ know what happens?" Loki asked.

"Read it _to _me," Jane said. Loki's eyebrows went up.

"_To _you?"

Jane nodded.

"Maybe it'll make me sleepy."

Loki lifted an eyebrow.

"Are you implying that my storytelling will put you to sleep?"

Jane grinned and leaned back in the couch.

"It's worth a try."

He stifled his smile and then opened the book. He flipped past the introduction, found the beginning, and cleared his throat.

"_'Where's Mjolnir?' roared Thor. He flung off his bearskin cover, tipped up his bed, and peered under it, but found only a frightened mouse. Thor tugged at his beard in disbelief. 'A hammer cannot walk on one leg. Mjolnir cannot fly by itself. It cannot vanish unless…unless…Rascal!' Thor shouted. 'Robber!' _

_ Loki thrust his head in the doorway._

_ 'Whatever happened,' he said, 'I'm not to blame._'"

Both Loki and Jane paused a moment, then burst out laughing.

"_He _doesn't have a guilty conscience!" Jane snickered.

"He just knows who gets blamed for everything, regardless of what's happened," Loki grinned, shaking his head.

"That's probably not unreasonable, though," Jane ventured.

"Um, no," Loki admitted, chuckling. "You're right."

Jane scooted closer, casting her gaze across the pages. Loki leaned the book away from her and half closed it.

"Don't read over my shoulder," he said. "I detest that."

"I'm not," she promised. "I'm just looking at the pictures."

"You can look at the pictures later," he said. "Unless you really are _not _tired and can read it for yourself."

"Fine!" Jane huffed, putting her tea down and leaning back in the couch. "Keep going."

Again, Loki suppressed a smile, reopened the book and continued.

"'_Mjolnir has disappeared!' Thor bellowed. 'And you took it!'_

_ 'I was asleep, minding my own dreams, until your shouts woke me,' protested Loki. 'I didn't touch your fiery hammer.' He wriggled his fingers. 'Look! My hands aren't even red.'"_

This elicited another giggle from Jane, and Loki shook his head again, thoroughly amused. And his amusement only grew as he kept reading. For in this story, Thor's hammer had been stolen by a Frost Giant who demanded Freya, the goddess of love, as his bride in return for the hammer. And _Loki _went on to suggest that _Thor _disguise himself as Freya and go to the wedding instead.

And so Loki shaved Thor's beard and put him in a dress.

Frankly, this soon had both Jane and Loki in stitches. They could not help it. Loki was laughing so hard he could barely breathe enough to keep reading, and Jane swiped away tears from her eyes. At one turn in the story, Loki and Jane shot a startled glance at each other, their laughter bottled up—and both saw in the other's face that they were thinking of the Thor _they _knew—all broad-shouldered seven feet of him—squeezed into a bridal gown and veil and being hefted over the threshold by a slightly dismayed Frost Giant—and the fit of laughter _that_ caused lasted nearly a minute. Loki thought he'd broken another rib. Jane was gasping for air.

Finally, after both were completely worn out and lightheaded, and their joviality had faded to giddy chuckles, Loki swiped at his own eyes and leaned back in the couch next to Jane, not caring if she looked at the pictures now. He had to clear his throat several times, and resist laughing again as Jane fought back her giggles. At last, he composed himself enough to start reading the details of the wedding feast, and the trade for Mjollnir. Absently, Loki felt Jane's warmth nestled close to him, but he assumed she just wanted a better look at the illustrations of the blue, towering Frost Giants and their vast meal.

At last, Thor got his hammer back, and split all the sculls of the offending Frost Giants, fairly destroying the place. Then, he put his foot on the leader's chair and started a grand speech. Loki took a breath, sighing with slight irritation, but he knew Jane was listening and wanted to hear it, so he read on.

"'_Then Thor strode over to Thrym's throne, placed a foot upon it, and declared,_

_ 'I am the god Thor_

_ I am the Thunderer._

_ Here among icebergs_

_ Rule I the nations._

_ This is my hammer,_

_ Mjolnir the mighty;_

_ Giants and sorcerers_

_ Cannot withstand it!_

_Strength is_—'"

Heavy softness lay down on his shoulder. Loki froze. Then he risked a glance.

Jane's dark hair cascaded down his shoulder and chest. Her head nestled in the crook of his neck and rested on his shoulder. Loki's heartbeat sped up to racing as he realized that she had pressed her whole body up against his side, and her hand rested on the bend of his arm. His breath caught and held. He could hear her breathing—deep and steady—he could feel it wash through him. She had fallen asleep. Here. And she had put her head on his shoulder.

Loki swallowed hard, his brow twisting, his heartbeat uneven.

Carefully, he closed the book and set it aside. Then, he let himself sink back into the cushion of the couch. Jane stirred, taking hold of his arm and nuzzling closer to him. For a moment, her nose touched his cheek near his lips. Then she eased her head back down, and let out a long sigh.

Loki's throat felt thick. His eyelashes fluttered, and he could not take his eyes from her fingers up on his arm. Slowly, he leaned his head to the side and rested his cheek against her hair. She stayed where she was. Loki closed his eyes tightly, and listened to the rhythm of every breath she took in time with his own.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Please review!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Ah, reviewers…I love you! :D Please enjoy this next chapter, and let me know if you do! _

_The poem Erik quotes is by Carol Robe._

_LLLLL_

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"If only

If only I could have been yours  
Been your rapport and yours to adore  
If only

If only I would have said yes  
Forgotten the rest

Oh, I could have said yes  
If only…"

-Into the Blue

Jane jerked awake. The piercing jangle of a telephone ring jolted through her. She gasped, blinking and squinting, and pressing a hand to her face.

"What? What is it?" came a groggy voice right next to her. She glanced to her right to see Fenris, sitting up from the back of the couch and frowning hard—he'd just woken up too. Jane looked out the windows. The gray dawn was just lighting the sky.

"It can't even be five in the morning," Jane croaked, getting up and stumbling to the telephone on the desk. She hit the speakerphone button and bent over the phone, brushing her hair out of her face. "Hello?"

"Miss Foster? Is that you?"

She straightened.

"Fury?"

"Yes," he answered. "We have a situation."

Jane suddenly woke up.

"What is it? What happened?"

"We're sending a car for you. It should be there in about an hour, and it'll take you to the hospital in Santa Fe."

"The hospital?" Jane repeated, gripping the table with both hands. She sensed Fenris get up off the couch and step close to her.

"Erik has been injured," Fury said. "It's not serious, but he—"

"_Erik?_" Jane cried, standing up straight. "Why is _Erik _with you?"

"We'd like to debrief you in the car—"

"No," Jane shot back. "No, you tell me what's going on right now."

Fury sighed.

"Last night, while we were moving the Cube, we came across a large patterned circle in the ground—one that looked very much like the ones that appeared when we were receiving visitors from Asgard," he explained. "We stopped the convoy to search for whoever might have landed. We called Erik to come take a look."

"Why didn't you call _me?" _Jane demanded.

"We came and got him," Fury answered. "We didn't have a lot of time."

Jane let it go, worry quickening her pulse.

"How did Erik get hurt?"

"While we were investigating," Fury went on. "A purple cloud descended on us—completely swallowed the convoy. It was full of lightning and wind, and sounds like screaming and tearing. We all lost track of each other. The wind tipped one of our trucks over. Erik's leg got caught beneath it."

Jane clamped her teeth, her eyes screwing shut. Fenris pressed softly up to her from behind. She took a gasping breath.

"What happened then?"

"It cleared off," Nick said. "And when we could see again, one of our armored trucks—the one with the Cube in it—had had a hole punched in it the size of a car. The Cube was gone."

Jane's eyes flew open. She stared down at the phone.

"_Gone?_" she cried. "How?"

"We don't know," Fury admitted. "We have theories—"

"What are your theories?" Jane cut him off.

"There are several. But the most popular one, amongst _my_ agents anyway, is that the theft was conducted with magic—and the culprit is Loki."

Fenris took a stiff breath behind her. Jane suddenly went cold.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Oh, believe me, we've got every source on the job," Fury said. "This is top priority. But if Loki has taken it back to Asgard…"

Jane swallowed hard as Fury trailed off, her stomach turning over and over at the implications of that statement.

"Are you sure Erik's okay?" she whispered.

"He's broken his ankle and the two bones in his lower leg, but his life isn't in danger," Fury assured her. "He's been in and out of surgery, and now he wants to see you. You and Fenris."

"Okay," Jane murmured. "We'll…We'll wait for the car."

"See you soon," Fury said, and the phone clicked as he hung up.

Jane stood there for a long moment, her muscles locked. Then, slowly her brow twisted and tears welled up in her eyes. She took a watery gasp and pressed her hand to her mouth.

"Jane…" Fenris said, his voice soft and distressed. She shook her head and turned away from the phone, pacing back to the couch. She sat down hard, swiping at her eyes, but her breathing shook—and her tears tumbled. Fenris came and stood in front of her, but she knew that if she looked up into his eyes she would sob.

"It's gone," she choked, gesturing helplessly. "I knew it. I knew something like this would happen as soon as Fury and Coulson told us they were going to move it." More hot tears fell, even though she battled to hide them and stop them.

"Come now," Fenris said very quietly, and sat down next to her. "It's not as bad as all that, is it?" He reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair back off her shoulder, then tucked a strand behind her ear. Finally, she turned and looked at him. His emerald eyes watched her solemnly, his bearing soft. He set his hand down behind her back, so that her shoulder touched his chest. Her vision clouded and she ducked her head.

"I don't think any of us has any idea how bad it is," she said. "The Cube could be anywhere, and whoever stole it…Well, who knows what they're planning to do."

Fenris said nothing. His head lowered. She lifted her eyes and studied his profile. A burst of realization shot through her mind.

"You don't know, do you?" she breathed.

His eyes flashed to hers. His eyebrows came together.

"What?"

"You didn't have anything to do with this," she said quickly, shifting toward him. "Tell me you didn't."

He blinked, startled.

"You think _I—"_

"You know how to use magic," she reminded him quickly, trying to breathe. "And Fury seems to think that the storm was caused by—"

"Jane," he said firmly, looking at her directly. "I was here. With you."

She let out a shaky breath and glanced down. She felt him tilt his head to see her face.

"You do believe me?"

She nodded, more tears filling her eyes.

"Yeah. Sorry. It's just that I…I keep _doing_ this," she said angrily, squeezing her hands together in her lap. "I'm so stupid—I never learn."

"What are you talking about?" Fenris scoffed. She shook her head, her brow tightening more.

"I get my hopes up. _Every time_," she closed her eyes and tears scalded her cheeks. "And I shouldn't. Not until whatever-it-is is right in front of me." She took a deep, thin breath—it hurt. And her tear-filled eyes met his, and she gave a weak smile. "But I could almost see it, you know?"

"See what?" he wondered, watching her.

"Asgard. The way you described it," she said. "The shining towers, the rainbow bridge—the light on the water."

His gaze flickered, and he softened even more.

"You may see Asgard yet," he murmured. She wiped her tears away.

"I know. I just…I just know that Thor is trying, too. He's trying to get here, probably as hard as I'm trying to get there. And I had a chance, but…" she shrugged and spread her hands. "There it went. Gone." She swallowed hard, her gaze unfocusing. "But if _Loki_ is the one who did this, then that means that when Thor went back, he didn't…He didn't…" She couldn't finish. She bowed her head and fiddled with her cuff. She felt Fenris' eyes on her, but he withdrew his arm and sat back. His breathing sounded uneven. Jane's head buzzed, and she couldn't see clearly.

"Is that what you want?" he whispered. "To get it back so you can go to him?"

Jane didn't say anything—it suddenly sounded selfish, the way he put it. Silence fell, and it stayed for a long time. Then, he took a breath.

"Very well," he said—his voice sounded ragged. "We will find it."

Her head came up. She blinked. Two tears fell—but it cleared her eyes. Fenris stared straight ahead. His expression looked cold, distant. But when he turned his eyes to her, they penetrated deep.

"If that's what you want," he said. Jane's lips parted. But before she could say anything, he got up and turned his back on her. His left hand flexed, then he made his way to the stairs that led to the roof. Jane watched him as he ascended, and listened to the quiet after the door had slammed.

LLLLLL

Once, very long ago when Loki was a boy, his brother had tossed him a beautiful, multi-colored glass horse, shouting to him that he could keep it if he could catch it. Loki had been startled, unprepared—but he threw up his hands. For just an instant, he felt the cool, delicate glass between his fingers…

Before it shattered to a million pieces on the marble floor.

It was only afterward that Loki learned from his mother that the horse had been one of a kind, and the maker had passed to Valhalla.

Thor had begged forgiveness and pleaded ignorance of the horse's value, and Loki had wept bitterly. But that did not change the fact that he had held it in his hands for a breathless moment, and then had lost it forever—before he even knew what he had.

And now, Loki stood on the roof of the lab, fists clenched, seeing nothing, struggling to breathe, struggling to see through clouded eyes, feeling the same as he had when the crash still rang in his ears, and the glass lay splintered at his feet.

LLLLLLL

Jane sat in the back seat of the sedan next to Fenris, looking out the window as the sunrise lit up the desert hills. The car bumped and rocked as they sped down the road. Agent Coulson drove. Nick Fury sat in the passenger seat. No one spoke.

Earlier, when the car had first come and they'd piled in, Jane had demanded more answers—but there wasn't much more for Fury or Coulson to tell her, except that Tony Stark had gone back home to pursue a lead while using better technology. The fact that Tony had a lead lifted her spirits for a while, but the heavy silence soon made them sink again. She glanced over at Fenris.

He sat with his elbow braced on the armrest of the door, his forefinger draped over his lips. He stared out the window.

Ever since she'd crept up to the roof to tell him that the car was here, he'd hardly said a word to her, and he moved stiffly. Jane's brow tightened and a pang traveled down her throat. It was like she had the old Fenris back—the one encased in ice, with a gaze like frostbite. At the moment, though, she almost wished for a little of that frostbite. He hadn't looked at her once.

Sometime in the middle of the morning, they arrived in the city, and drove through the crowded streets of the bustling metropolis. She watched Fenris, certain that he would perk up and start asking questions about the buildings, the vehicles, the people. But his eyes had unfocused, and he didn't seem to notice anything. Jane put her hand to her upper chest, where the Lokistone hid underneath her shirt.

Finally, they pulled up to the hospital and Agent Coulson let Fenris, Fury and Jane out. The wind blew Jane's hair, and she realized how disheveled she must look after the mostly-sleepless night she had spent. She started walking toward the main door, then paused, realizing that Fenris' shadow had not fallen across her. She glanced over—to see he was walking on the other side of Fury instead. She took a half breath, composed herself, and followed them into the shade of the cement overhang to the sliding glass door of the hospital.

LLLL

"I've never seen anything like it," Erik shook his head, gazing up at the white ceiling. Jane sat next to his bed in an uncomfortable chair, her hands closed tightly around each other. Erik's left foot was up in traction, and he had an IV in his left arm. He looked pale, his face tight and troubled.

"It was like a black, flashing hurricane," he went on quietly. "And it just came down like a monster swallowing us. It kicked those trucks around like they weighed nothing. And then there was this colossal metal tearing sound, and the wind became overpowering." He frowned hard. "And then it knocked a truck over. I tried to get out of the way, but I tripped and the very top of the thing landed on my foot. Then, just a few seconds later, the storm cleared up like it had never been there."

"So it didn't look like the other anomalies?" Jane asked. Erik shook his head.

"No. I mean, it resembled them," he said. "But this had a stranger, purplish color. And it was wider—not like a tornado. And much more violent."

"What did SHIELD tell you they're going to do?" Jane wondered.

"Not much more than they've told you, I'm sure," Erik said. "That they're looking, and that Tony Stark is looking, too." Erik glanced at her. "Where's Darcy?"

"She's coming to see you later this afternoon," Jane said, distracted.

"What about Fenris?"

Jane swallowed, and glanced at the door.

"I think he's in the waiting room."

Erik paused.

"What is it?" he said in a low voice. "Is something wrong?"

Jane hesitated, then shrugged.

"I don't know. We got the call this morning from Nick telling us what happened. Fenris and I discussed it, and all of a sudden he just…quit talking." Jane held out her hands, then fiddled with her cuff again. "I don't know what's the matter."

"He's probably discouraged," Erik suggested. "The Cube is his only way home."

Jane bit her lip, thinking.

"I don't know. He seemed optimistic at first. He even said we'd get it back." She sighed. "But he's given me the silent treatment ever since."

"Everybody's worried about this, Jane," Erik said. "In different ways, and for very good reasons—you know that."

Jane just nodded, not looking up. Erik's tone gentled.

"Did you get _any_ sleep last night?"

Jane laughed.

"Just a little. On the couch."

"You look tired," Erik said.

"I am," Jane nodded closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. "I don't think I'm thinking straight. This whole thing had me crying like a baby."

"You should go get some rest," Erik advised.

"I can't leave you here," Jane said, reaching out and taking his hand. He gave her a smile and squeezed her fingers.

"I'm fine. It isn't the first time I've had a broken bone, you know. I've had a lot worse."

"Really," Jane raised her eyebrows. "I want to hear _that _story."

"Ha, maybe later," Erik said. He adjusted his head on his pillow. "I _would_ like to talk to Fenris, though. Could you send him in?"

Jane's chest tightened again, but she nodded.

"Yeah. Sure. I'll go get him."

LLLLL

Loki sank down into the chair next to Erik's bed and swallowed, glancing at the beeping, blinking machine next to Erik, the tubes stuck into his arm, and his left foot, swathed in bandages and suspended by slings and wires. It all had a strange, medieval look to it that made Loki's skin cold. But when he finally glanced over and met Erik's gaze, his blood turned cold as well. He went still.

"What is it?" he asked.

Erik, his blue gaze keen and sharp, just gazed back at him a long time.

"It's interesting, this Cube business," he said slowly. "I think it's intriguing what people will do to get their hands on unlimited power. Even if they're not quite sure what they want to do with it once they have it."

Loki said nothing. Erik held his gaze.

"They're saying that the person who stole the Cube used magic," Erik said. "Untraceable, unfightable magic. Power that no one else in the SHIELD operation has seen. Not since Thor took out the Destroyer." Erik paused, and raised his eyebrows. Loki hardened.

"I did not steal it, sir," he stated. "I was with Jane. You may ask her. She knows."

"You were with her all night?" Erik asked.

"Yes."

"What were you doing?" Erik demanded.

Loki's eyes blazed.

"I'm offended at your tone—"

"Then tell me."

"We sat on the couch and read," Loki answered, his face hot. "And both of us drifted off to sleep. When Fury's call awoke us, it was barely dawn. I doubt we slept for more than three hours."

Erik's gaze penetrated right through Loki, making him want to squirm. But he sat very still, unflinching, his jaw tight. At last, Erik turned his gaze to the ceiling and shifted in his bed. Loki suppressed a sigh of relief.

"Glad to hear it," Erik muttered.

Loki was quiet a moment, folding his hands. Then, he risked a question.

"So what do _you_ make of all of this?"

Erik paused, studying the ceiling.

"I am sometimes amazed at what I learn if I just sit back and listen—and do a little research," Erik commented. "Nothing ridiculous—just common sense stuff."

Loki frowned.

"I don't follow," he admitted. Erik glanced down at the needle in his arm and winced, pressing his fingers to the skin just above it.

"I read a poem recently," Erik went on, as if Loki hadn't spoken. "It's a lovely bit of work. It all made me think a great deal." He took a breath, and began to recite.

"'_Who was it who had Mjolnir made?  
Who was it who had Draupnir made?  
Who was it who had Frey's boar made?  
You, Loki, and for what?_"

Loki's head came up. The sound of his name, spoken so directly, jerked through his chest. He stared at Erik, tension rising through his muscles, as he kept going.

"_You bet your head, but not your neck—  
You paid without paying the penalty  
The dark elves thought they earned:  
Your subtle wits circumvented them!_

Who was it who travelled with Thor?  
Who was it who warded from behind?  
Who was it who raced Fire for food?'"  


Erik stopped, and met Loki's eyes. His voice deepened. "You, Loki," he said. "And for what?"

Loki began to breathe shakily, his heartbeat speeding up, but there was no escape from Erik's look. Loki swallowed—pain filled his throat. He ducked his head.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do," Erik stated. "It's you, isn't it?"

Loki looked up, trapped. Erik's countenance hardened.

"I saw it in your eyes the second I said your name," Erik said. "You are Prince Loki."

Loki couldn't turn away from him now—all his muscles had turned to water. He sat there, chills racing through him, his hands clenched together, as he battled to let nothing show on his face. But this time, it was a battle he lost.

"How long have you known?" he asked roughly.

"I think I knew it from the beginning," Erik told him. "You didn't walk or talk like a servant, even when you were half dead. You acted like a prince who's never had to get his hands dirty. Besides which, you're formal, refined, _and _you know more about magic and science than anyone could without being a master yourself. I listened to you talk with Stark—there is no way a guard—even one from Asgard—could keep up with him the way you did. And the way you talked about Thor—it wasn't like a servant would talk about his master. More like a friend. Or a brother."

Something inside Loki broke. He shivered, and looked away to the wall to his left.

"Are you…" Loki barely managed. "Are you going to tell Jane?"

Erik took a breath.

"Did you kill Thor?"

Loki's stomach twisted, and he swallowed hard, feeling the heat drain from his face.

"No," he said hoarsely. "He's alive."

Silence fell.

"Then no," Erik finally muttered. "I'm not going to tell Jane."

Loki's head whipped around, like a light had just come on.

"No?"

Erik shook his head.

"No. I'd rather _you _toldher. Unless of course I have reason to believe that you're going to hurt her."

Loki's stomach lurched now.

"Hurt her?" he repeated. "You think that I…" He gestured weakly, then swallowed and dropped his mask. He took a deep breath and spoke evenly. "How could I?"

"Good," Erik stated. "Then I want you to take her with you."

Loki blinked.

"When you go searching for the Cube," Erik finished.

Loki's lips parted, but he fell silent, studying Erik's face.

"What makes you think I'm going after the Cube?" he finally asked, narrowing his eyes.

Erik gave him a half smile that made Loki uneasy.

"Lots of reasons," Erik told him. "But one of them might be that _she _wants it back."

Loki didn't answer.

"Another reason," Erik added. "Is that she isn't safe."

Loki stiffened.

"What do you mean?"

"The person who stole the Cube may not know everything about it," Erik told him. "And Jane would be the easiest source of information to tap." Erik sighed, and suddenly he looked haggard. "Even if I was completely healthy, I don't think I could protect her from whoever is behind all this." He finally looked at Loki. "But you, Prince of Mischief…_You_ might be able to."

For a long while, Loki studied Erik, puzzling over the lines of his face and the dark look in his eyes. At last, he lowered his head, and locked gazes with him.

"You have just caught me in a lie," Loki said. "Told me that you _know _I've been pretending to be someone I'm not for nearly two months now. And you believe me to be Prince Loki—someone who gets blamed for every misfortune that befalls anyone in Asgard…" he paused, and lowered his voice. "And yet you trust me with this Cube…and with Jane."

"No," Erik said frankly. Loki opened his mouth, but Erik went on.

"But I've seen you, and talked with you. I know you've made mistakes—awful ones—and you're likely to make more." Erik's face softened. "But you are not evil. And I'm not sure I can say that about whoever this is that took the Cube." Erik leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "And as for Jane…"

Loki looked away, his chest twinging.

"I know how you feel about her," Erik murmured. Loki lifted his head, searching Erik's face. But Erik's expression had cleared, he was breathing evenly, and he said no more. Loki swallowed, smoothed the knees of his trousers with his palms, then got up and headed to the door.

"Oh, and Loki…"

Loki stopped and turned back, going cold again at the sound of his name. Erik did not open his eyes.

"It's probably a good idea to keep your travel plans to yourselves," he advised. "Unless you want Fury and Coulson and Stark and quite a few others to follow you wherever you go."

Loki nodded, even though he knew Erik couldn't see, hesitated, then quietly left the hospital room.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Please review!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews! They keep me going! (I also would like to address one point, since some astute readers have noticed: some words seem to be mashed together, for example "tobe" or "toldher." I assure you, this is not my error, but a formatting problem here on . I will see what can be done about them. They surprise me as much as they do you!) Also, there will be SLIGHT spoilers for Captain America in this chap—can't really be helped, since we ARE dealing with the Cube! Thank you, and enjoy! _

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"_The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with eager feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say."_

_-The Hobbit_

Jane sat alone at the table in the lab, making herself finish the last of the tomato soup she'd made for lunch. Darcy had gone, and Fenris was in Erik's trailer—though what he was looking for, Jane didn't know. He hadn't wanted to eat any of the breakfast Coulson had gotten for them at the hospital, and he hadn't even acknowledged her offer for lunch once they'd been dropped back off at home. She could count on one hand how many words he'd said to her today, and most of them were "yes" or "no."

She rubbed her forehead, wishing she could take a nap—but she knew she'd never be able to sleep. Too much spun through her head, mainly worry for Erik, confusion about Fenris, and deep dread about the Cube.

Her cell phone rang. She jumped, then got up and picked up her purse off the couch. She rummaged around as the phone sang Mozart's "Turkish March" far too loudly. Finally, she pulled it out, hit the button and put it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sweetheart," sighed a familiar voice. Jane straightened.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yep, that's me," he said, sounding very tired. "Glad I could catch you."

Jane's heart leaped.

"Did you find something?"

"Well…Yes, and no," he answered, and she could almost see his wince. "That's kind of what I wanted to call you about, but first I wanted to call you about a sort of hunch I had, and I wanted to offer my assistance."

Jane pressed her fingers to her forehead as she tried to follow him.

"Okay..."

"See, I had a hunch last night, while I was bent over a bunch of old papers with my head almost cracking open," he said. "And my hunch is that your Asgardian boyfriend is going to go after the Cube—and of course, if he did, he'd want to take you with him, so—"

"Wait, wait," Jane held up a hand. "Boyfr…Fenris?"

"Um, yeah."

Jane shook it off.

"What makes you think he's going after the Cube?" Jane demanded.

"Look, I may not be the best with people, but I know that guy," Tony answered. "Even if he is from some other planet—realm. His and my internal metronomes tick at about the same rate. He was easy to figure out." He heaved another sigh. "_Anyway_, I just have a gut feeling, and I'm usually right. So when you find out that I _am_ right, call Pepper, and she'll set you up."

"Set us up?" Jane frowned. "With what?"

"With anything you need," Tony answered. "Here, let me give you her number."

"Okay," Jane said, scrabbling for a piece of paper and a pen. "I'm ready."

Tony rattled off a few digits, and she scribbled them down.

"Normally, I wouldn't even call, I'd just come pick you guys up and we'd go together," Tony said as she finished. "But I've got another lead I'm in the middle of following."

"What's that?" Jane asked. "Can you talk about it?"

"Yeah, I've secured this line," Tony said. "See, so far, SHIELD has been operating using their own research that started about forty years ago. But I was just digging through a bunch of my dad's old notes—found 'em in a box Fury gave me, actually—and found out that my _dad _actually dug up that Cube off the bottom of the ocean at the end of World War _Two_."

"He did?" Jane exclaimed.

"Yeah, nice of him to tell me, right?" Tony said sarcastically. "And nice of Fury to keep that little tidbit to himself…Anyway, that led me to a whole bunch of his other stuff about the Nazis and the Super-Soldier project and Captain America—"

"Wait—I knew about the Nazi part, and something about enhanced humans but—_Captain America_ had something to do with the Cube?" Jane interrupted.

"A _lot _to do with the Cube, apparently—it's been kept top secret since," Tony said. "Anyway, SHIELD's got all the Allied bases covered—meaning, they know which of the good guys have had it and experimented on it and everything since then and before then, yadda, yadda. But the stuff I found in my dad's notes…"

"Show what _bad _guys have had it?" Jane finished.

"Yeah, pretty much," Tony acknowledged. "Guys like Johann Schmidt, and a Nazi deep science division called Hydra."

A cold shadow passed through Jane. She leaned against the side of the table, and wrapped an arm around herself.

"I've never heard of that," Jane confessed. "Which means it was probably very bad."

"Yeah, pretty much," Tony agreed. "And even Hitler was starting to think that this Schmidt guy was completely insane. But now…I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked frowning.

"Well, Schmidt spent most of his resources looking for the Cube," Tony explained. "And he seemed to think that it was a jewel belonging to the gods. Specifically…the Norse gods."

Jane's heart started beating faster.

"Really…" she whispered.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Tony said. "So I managed to trace some of Schmidt's movements during the war, and those took me to all sorts of places in Europe—but mostly ones that had to do with Norse burial sites and sacred places, stuff like that. He'd busted into them looking for something—probably this Cube. But apparently he stopped around the time that the Captain America project started."

Jane pressed her fingers to her lips, paying intense attention. Tony went on.

"My dad's efforts to keep it a secret apparently succeeded—and Schmidt seemed to have been a little tight-lipped about it." Tony took a deep breath. "But more recently, somebody else started looking for it."

"Who?"

"No idea," Tony admitted. "But for the past year or so, there have been break-ins at the same places Schmidt broke into, in the same order. But since nothing was taken, nobody really paid too much attention—and I wouldn't have either, except for all this Hydra crap I dug up."

"Do the thefts have an origin point?" Jane asked.

"A broad one. This guy is good, whoever he is."

"Where is it?"

"Latveria."

"Latveria? That's in the middle of Europe, isn't it?" Jane realized.

"Yep. And it's where I'm headed right now actually—but I figured I'm better equipped for overseas travel than you guys."

"So…Why would you think that Fenris is going after the Cube if you already know where it is and you're going there?" Jane asked, confused.

"That's the thing," Tony said. "That's where the guy's _headquarters_ are. I'm not so sure that's where the _Cube _is."

"Why do you say that?"

"Some of my equipment picked up some really funky, pulsing energy readings last night, just for a few minutes, about three hours after the hijack. It almost looked like one of my arc reactors going haywire," Tony told her. "They came from Canada, in the mountains outside of Jasper. Seems to have come from someplace underneath a lot of rock. My man Fenris probably has some theories about it—I'd bet money he does."

"So you want us to go there?" Jane clarified.

"It's a thought," Tony said. "Might as well keep all our bases covered, right?"

"Right," Jane said uneasily. "So we should buy some plane tickets?"

"Heck, no," Tony said. "Like I said, call Pepper. She'll take care of you if you decide you want to make the trip."

"Okay," Jane agreed.

"Okay, got to go," Tony said. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Jane said, and heard Tony hang up. She paused, staring down at the number, closing her fingers around her cell phone.

The door opened. She turned to see a brooding Fenris walk in. His dark head lifted, emerald eyes met hers, then he looked away and strode in.

"Are you planning on going after the Cube?" Jane asked point blank. He paused, his brow furrowing even more, then kept walking toward the cabinets.

"I was considering it," he answered, his voice cool and even. He started opening the cupboards and looking through them. Jane stared at him for a long time, stunned.

"Were you going to tell me, or were you just going to leave?" Jane's voice had more of an edge to it than she planned—but it didn't make him turn from his search.

"I wasn't going to leave you here," he answered. "Erik told me to take you along if I decided to make the journey."

"_Erik_ did," Jane stated, slightly offended.

"Yes," he mused. "He says you aren't safe."

Jane blinked.

"Why?"

Fenris shut one cupboard and opened another.

"He says, and I agree, that whoever stole the Cube may want to use you for information."

A chill passed over her skin.

"Where were you planning to start looking?" she pressed. "Did SHIELD tell you—"

"The Cube is north-west of us by a great distance," Fenris told, her. "In the mountains, in a cave."

Jane stared at him, her pulse accelerating.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"You…How do you know?" Jane stammered. Fenris turned and opened up the fridge, saying nothing. Jane's legs went weak. She sat down hard on an office chair.

"You've known where it is _all day_ and you didn't say anything to me or Fury or Coulson or _anybody?"_

He closed the fridge and opened the freezer. Jane held out her hands.

"Why?"

He didn't answer.

"Tony Stark _just _called," Jane cried. "He's heading all the way to _Latveria _to chase a lead, and there's no reason to! We ought to call him and just—"

"No," Fenris said, shutting the freezer. "I am going after it with as few hangers-on as possible."

Jane watched him, her chest going tight, her head in a whirl.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Nothing at all," he said lightly, opening the fridge again and pulling things out. "Except that a powerful, nameless person has hijacked the single most dangerous weapon in the universe, and because I cannot leave you here alone, I cannot simply snap my fingers and show up on his doorstep as I ought. Instead, I have to find some way of transporting a mortal woman into the nether regions of a range of snow-locked mountains whilst still remaining unseen by the thief, and I must keep her safe whilst trying to steal it back." His eyes finally flashed up to hers. "In short, I am gathering what little we have here that might be useful, and trying to organize a thousand other things in my mind, and you are distracting me." He turned to the groceries piled on the counter, and held both hands over them. He took a deep breath, then moved his hands. There came a blue flash—and the food disappeared.

Jane didn't move. She couldn't take her eyes from his hawk-like face. Finally, she swallowed the pain in her throat, picked up her phone again, and began to dial the number Tony had given her. She felt Fenris pause and watch her.

The phone rang three times. Then, a crisp, pleasant female voice answered.

"Stark Industries, Virginia Potts speaking."

"Hi, I need to speak with…Pepper?" Jane said.

"That's me," the lady said, and Jane could hear her smile. "Did Tony tell you to call?"

"Yes," Jane said, relieved that she'd found the right person. "This is Jane Foster. I—"

"Oh, hello, Miss Foster. He's told me all about you," Pepper answered. "Let me find your file."

Jane's eyebrows went up. She had a file?

"Here we are," Pepper said. "Mr. Stark's Alpha Two private jet is on call for you. Should you wish, I will send it out and it will arrive at the airport outside your town at nine o'clock tonight. A private airstrip in Jasper, Canada is waiting to receive you and put you up for the night. From there, whatever travel equipment you require will be provided."

Jane's mouth had fallen open. Finally, she managed to gather herself enough to talk.

"That…I think that works," she said. "Thank you."

"Very well. I'll put that through for you. Make sure you arrive promptly at the airport tonight—Happy will be there to meet you and escort you on board."

"Happy," Jane repeated.

"Yes. Good luck."

Jane ended the call and gazed down at the phone screen. She felt Fenris' eyes on her.

"Tony has arranged an airplane for us," Jane said quietly. "It'll be here tonight at eight, to take us to Jasper, Canada." She hazarded a glance up at him. He met her eyes for a moment, and something in his face softened. He glanced down, swallowed, and when he straightened, he looked at her differently.

"Come with me?" he asked. Jane's heart flickered, her brow tightened, but she nodded and got up.

"We will need the vehicle," he said, starting toward the door. "There is something I need to see."

LLLL

Jane drove, complete silence in the cab. The only other sounds were the rumble of the engine, and the hiss of the tires on the dirt road. Dust blew up behind the van and rocks crunched as they headed out into the boonies in the direction Fenris had pointed.

Three times, Jane opened her mouth to talk to Fenris, and three times she shut it again. His face was clouded, forbidding, his jaw tight, his mouth hard, and his gaze sharply focused out ahead. So she just drove, and hoped he would eventually tell her what was going on.

"There," Fenris nodded to a broad open space on the other side of a small hill. Frowning, Jane turned the wheel and headed that way.

"Stop here," he instructed. She did, and threw it into park.

"What are we—" she started, but he opened the door, got out, and slammed the door. She watched him for a second as he strode out, the wind blowing his hair and clothes. Jane sighed, pushed open her own door and hopped out, then followed him.

The wind had a bite to it, and it blustered through her hair. She trudged after Fenris' dark form, lit by the brilliant sun in the cloudless, pale sky. Fenris paused, staring down at the ground. Jane came up next to him—and saw it.

"Oh!" she gasped. "It looks just like the circle in the ground where we found Thor! Look! The same knots, the same border…" She looked up and searched Fenris' face. "What is this?"

"This is the circle that caused the convoy to stop last night. Fury told me where to find it," he answered. "Note all of the footprints around it, and tire marks." He pointed all around, but he did not look up from the design. His brow darkened and his mouth twitched. "But this…" He took a deep breath. "This is not right."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked.

Carefully, as if he were a cat walking on the top of a narrow wall, Fenris began circling the design.

"A mark of this kind is a signature. First, it bears witness to the fact that someone from Asgard has descended to Midgard," he explained. "Second, it pays tribute to the All-Father with its circular shape." His keen eyes roved across the intricate knots, which still held their shape despite the wind—as if by magic. "Third, it would acknowledge the one who opened the gate of the Asbru bridge, be it Heimdall, Odin, or Thor. And fourth, it would bear the name of the one who was sent. To use the firstborn prince, for example," Fenris stopped and pointed to the far side of the circle from him. "There would be the three knots meaning 'Prince Thor, son of Odin, son of Bor.' And here…" Fenris stepped around and pointed to three tangled knots, different at each end. "Would be the brother knot, meaning 'Thor, brother of Loki, and Balder the Dead.'" Loki paused as his gaze flickered. Then, he moved to the other side. "And here, in the center, would be Mjollnir the Mighty—a decorative version, but a hammer nonetheless. And fifth would be a series of symbols around the edge, detailing reason for travel…which is…" he trailed off, studying.

"So…This is Thor's?" Jane's eyes swept across the design—and she distinctly saw the three ancestral knots, the brother knot and the hammer. Fenris crouched down, and shook his head.

"No."

Jane studied him. He stayed still, like a wolf gauging the path ahead, narrowing his eyes as strands of his dark hair fluttered over his brow.

"Mjollnir is missing the knot of the One-in-Three. It should be there in the handle," he murmured. "A small detail, but a vital one. And the Loki bit of the brother knot…" he canted his head. "There are two lines in the middle, halfway through. There ought to be three."

"This seems so complicated…" Jane remarked.

"It's common tongue in Asgard." He shook his head and waved his hand over the design. "And this…this is illegible." He stood up. "It isn't right at all—not if you look at it properly." He paced around to the other side, across from her, again. "Not only is it not Thor's…" he said slowly. "It is no one's."

Jane's thoughts flew.

"It's a forgery?"

"A good one, for a Midgardian attempt," Fenris said. "But yes."

"It's _Midgardian? _But what about the storm?" Jane countered. "SHIELD is sure it was magic, that Loki—"

"There are obvious problems with that Loki theory," Fenris answered, lifting an eyebrow. "Remember what I told you about these circles?"

"They're signatures," Jane remembered. "And they mark that someone came from Asgard…"

He looked at her. It clicked.

"It would be _Loki's_ signature," she realized. "Not Thor's. And if it _was _Thor, he wouldn't have taken the Cube. He would have come and found us."

"Besides which," Fenris added. "It lately came to everyone's attention in Asgard that Prince Loki can travel _without _the aid of the Asbru Gate. Which means—"

"If it _was_ him," Jane finished. "He wouldn't have left a mark."

"Correct," Fenris sighed. "_And…_just to confirm that…" he walked all the way around the circle quickly, staring down, then stopped. "It's what I thought. This barely-readable bit around the circumference is the reason for passage, and it says something like…" he squinted at it. "'Thor Odinson, banished for…something, something, disobedience, defiance and recklessness, something, something…deprived of Mjollnir and sent to Midgard, something…until he proves himself worthy of his title. It also marks the date of passage—which is nearly two months ago."

Fenris lifted his head, and Jane met his eyes.

"This is a copy," he said, pointing at it. "A very convincing copy—but nonetheless, a mere replica of the one that Thor made when he first came and you met him."

"But who could have done this?" Jane asked. "You'd have to have satellite pictures—and even if you did, how could you manufacture _equipment _that could…And there's still the question of the storm—"

Fenris did not say anything for a long moment. The wind whistled through the hills and blew the dust.

"Here is something to consider:" Fenris said, still gazing down at the circle. "This could have been made with magic, just like the storm. And magic sometimes leaves echoes—like shouting down a canyon. And just as different people have different voices, types of magic cause different tones. And different predispositions give certain people an affinity for hearing one kind over another."

Jane came around the circle and stood next to him, considering what he said.

"So…is _that _how you know where the Cube is?"

His eyes flashed to hers. She didn't look away.

"You said that Stark's reactor was magic," she reminded him. "Is the Cube maybe the same thing?"

Fenris gazed at her a long moment, then turned back to the signature.

"I have thought of it," he confessed. "But I have to admit…That Cube _feels _as if it isn't from Midgard at all. It…Well, it feels as if its branches stretch higher. To Asgard." He took a deep breath, his eyes going distant. "But I have never heard of it before now."

"Well, I'm sure the royalty kept it a secret," Jane pointed out. "Odin wouldn't want Loki finding it, would he?"

Fenris blinked, and a smile twisted his mouth.

"No," he muttered. "He wouldn't."

Jane considered the signature for another moment.

"So…you were saying about the echoes…" she prompted. Fenris took a deep breath.

"I wondered if the storm might have left some—and if it did, if I could study them," he said. Then, he glanced at her and cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows. "Well, if I'm going to do this, you'll need to stand back. I don't want to be confused by your electric signature."

Jane nodded, then backed up, watching. He faced the circle, then held out his hands and closed his eyes. But this time, he held his hands out palms up.

For a long moment, he didn't move. Then, he beckoned with the first two fingers of his left hand. Then, he beckoned with all his fingers. He took a deep breath. He spread out his hands further, his brow tightening down.

He raised his arms until they were shoulder level, and straightened his elbows, as if he was expecting to be handed something. He moved his fingers slowly, exploring, and he canted his head to the left.

Then, he dropped his right arm, reached out with his left and took hold of something invisible—as if he was grasping a spider web with his fingertips. For an instant, he held it still.

Then, he jerked it toward him.

Howling screamed through the hills, shattering the silence, soaring on the wind. Jane's hands flew up to cover her ears. The earth rumbled under her feet. Fenris stayed where he was, eyes closed. Jane winced, lowering her head as the shrieking built, its voices multiplying until it sounded like a thousand.

Then, with a swift wave of Fenris' hand, they silenced.

Jane sucked in a breath, and dared to lower her hands. The wind whispered, ruffling her hair. Fenris opened his eyes. He glanced down, and his mouth hardened. Jane, trying to calm her heartbeat, waited.

"It _was_ magic," he finally murmured. "But it was rough around the edges—tangled, erratic. It bears none of the refinement of the All-Father's schooling." He paused. His voice lowered. "It was not wielded by someone from Asgard." He took another breath. "But one thing is certain." He turned his head and met Jane's eyes. "I haven't felt power like that since I was thrown from the Asbru Bridge."

Jane gazed at him a long time, but he turned back to the signature.

"So…" she ventured. "Do you still think we should go after it?"

"Oh, yes," he murmured, not looking at her, his eyes blazing. "Now there is no question in my mind."

He fell silent. Jane swallowed hard—and then realized that the Lokistone was hot against the skin of her chest. She bit her cheek, resisting the curiosity that built inside her every time that happened—but now, as she watched his brooding form, she determined that she would not wait much longer before getting some answers from him.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Please review!_


	16. Chapter 16

_My dear, intelligent, literary reviewers—you make this so much fun. :) This chapter is dedicated to madamemouse. ;) The riddles within are from "The Hobbit."_

_(The song within this chapter is called "Blow Northerne Wynd," and if you go to a site called Luminarium, and scroll down a bit, you'll see a link that says Search Luminarium. Type in the name of the song, and the first result is correct. Once you get to that page, scroll down past the translation, and you'll find a little sample music file, so you can listen to it. It's a bit of trouble to get to it, I know—but the song is just BEAUTIFUL, and it can't be found anywhere else that is easier.)_

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

_"Far over the misty mountains cold  
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day  
To seek the pale enchanted gold."_

_-The Hobbit_

Loki sat back in the white cushioned seat and glanced out the oval-shaped window to his right. He could see nothing—just blackness, and the occasional flash of a light out on the wing. A dull hum surrounded his hearing—the deep vibration of the machine, very quiet, ran through him from his heels to his chest. He set his elbow on the armrest, propped his chin in his hand and stared out into the dark.

Jane sat across from him in the belly of this metal beast, on the other side of a small, stationary table. His gaze flickered across her form—he was careful not to let it linger. He didn't want her to catch him looking at her.

She was dressed warmly in her boots, blue jeans, sweater and gray jacket. Her hair hung down around her shoulders, as it looked prettiest. Strands of it caught the light of the soft overhead lamp, which turned them red or gold. She rested back in her chair, her head tilted toward the window, her dark eyes distant. A line stood between her eyebrows. Loki made himself turn away, back to the window. Though her eyes were dim with weariness and dull worry marked her brow, it made him ache to realize how beautiful she was.

She let out a low moan and shifted in her chair. Loki tried not to attend to her, but he had no choice—his gaze was pulled back to her face without his consent.

"I can never sleep on a plane," she murmured, her black lashes closing as her brow tightened. "I don't suppose there's any magic that can help with that?"

"I'm have little experience with planes," Loki answered quietly, locking his gaze upon the window and refusing to move it.

"I wish I'd thought to bring a book," she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Then you could read to me. It helped before."

Loki clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, just for an instant, as piercing pain traveled down his throat. He didn't answer her, and he didn't ask if she was cold, or if he could do anything for her. He felt her open her eyes and study him—felt her concern roll out from her like a wave onto the beach. But he would not move. And for the rest of the flight, they were silent.

LLLLLL

Jane let out a shivering huff and tossed her bag down on her narrow bed in the closet-like, dark room. The springs of the mattress squeaked in protest. She unzipped her jacket, moved to take it off, then thought better of it as the cold invaded her chest.

"I'm surprised I can't see my breath in here," she muttered, hurrying over to the thermostat by the door. She made a face. It was pinned at eighty degrees already. Clearly, it was not working.

By the light of a full, crisp moon, Stark's plane had touched down at a remote airstrip outside of Jasper. Happy, Stark's man, had trudged down the ladder with them, carrying Jane's bag as he escorted her and Fenris across the icy tarmac to the rented rooms near the control tower. The wind had sliced right through Jane's jacket and jeans, and they all had to duck their heads against the frigid gusts as they hurried along—though Fenris seemed less bothered by it than the other two.

Now, Jane was set up in the larger of the two available rooms—Happy had told them over and over that this was the best Stark could get them in this area, and he apologized so sincerely that Jane felt bad if she even mentioned how frigid it was inside. Fenris' keen eyes had caught everything, though he did not speak as he walked on to his room right next to hers.

Jane took a shower and got ready for bed—mercifully, there was semi-hot water, though she could barely fit inside the shower—and she put her jacket on over her pajamas. Shivering, she threw the covers back on her bed and crawled inside, tucked herself in snugly and shut off the light. The lights from the tower glowed through the dim window shades. She lay there for a moment, then shifted to get more comfortable. The box springs screeched.

"Oh, wonderful," she groaned. She adjusted her head on the pillow and drew her knees up to her chest, trying to stay very still. She was _so _tired, but it was _so _cold, and the bed was hard and strange—she didn't know how she'd ever get to sleep. She stared at the far wall, and at the outline of the stupid thermostat that wouldn't work.

Absently, she pulled out the Lokistone from under her collar and rubbed it between her fingers. She closed it in her hand and pressed it to her throat. But it stayed cold, like a chip of ice that wouldn't melt.

In all their hours of travel, Fenris had been all stillness and silence. Like keeping company with a total stranger. And his gaze never found hers.

Jane shifted her bed, nuzzling down into the pillow as she let out a fractured sigh. Then she berated herself. It was possible that his mood had nothing to do with her at all, and everything to do with the Cube—and his ability to get back home.

Her thoughts snagged on that, and lingered.

The cold seeped down into her bones, and the heavy silence stretched on into the dark.

After several hours, she managed to drift into uneasy sleep—but all night she dreamed as if she was looking for something she couldn't identify, and she could never find it.

LLLL

Snow crunched beneath two sets of boots. Jane's breath made clouds of vapor wreath her head as she trudged forward through the unbroken field of brilliant white.

A two mile open stretch rolled ahead of them, hills like mounds of sugar, sparkling in the sharp midday sunlight. Beyond that, a thick, unmoving black forest stood like an army of petrified giants—and that blanket of a forest spread on, its ripples rising and climbing upon the backs of gradually steepening rocks, until, far on the horizon, the slate-gray, ice-coated mountains knifed high into the sky, vast and silent and forbidding.

Jane glanced straight up, squinting. The sky was pale blue, crystal clear, and unadulterated by a single cloud. Still, it had to be only about fifteen degrees out here. She stared at the peaks of the distant, jagged mountains as she marched. They seemed so near—yet she could feel in her bones how far away they were, and that they were too colossal and cold for her to fathom.

She glanced over at Fenris, who walked ahead of her and to her right. He wore leather gloves, and an ankle-length woolen black coat that belonged to Erik—it had thick gray fur around the collar. He also wore the leather shirt and trousers he had brought from Asgard, and the boots that went with them. His boots cut through the calf-deep snow easily—he was _so _tall—and the cloak swept and swished behind him, marking the surface of the snow with feather-like trails.

Jane took deep breaths, long strides, and made herself keep up with him. He had packed her bag in his "storage closet in limbo," so neither of them carried anything. That was a relief to Jane, because they had been walking for several hours without a break.

As Jane trudged, the weightless snow kicking up around her boots and showering through the air like pixie-dust, she bit her lip against saying anything. His jaw was tight, his head low, and odd, delicate lines now formed between his eyebrows. The snow seemed to give way in front of him is if it was mist.

After another hour of hiking, they crossed into the forest. Gray shadows covered them. Pine trees crowded the edges of their narrow track, every black trunk coated with frost. Jane couldn't see any green needles as she studied the boughs—every broad branch hung heavy with snow and ice, drooping like overly-laden feather-dusters. The trees hid the mountains and blocked the light. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. And the cedars seemed to watch them from far over their heads.

The snow stood deeper here—almost up to her knees. She didn't say anything about it. She'd lived in Sweden, after all—she wasn't going to complain. But Fenris' pace never slowed. Jane gritted her teeth. She would _not _fall behind.

They followed the track up a gradual incline. Sometimes, the path narrowed so that they had to walk single-file between the sentinel trees—bits of snow fell from the lower branches when they passed, dotting the pristine white blanket around them, or landing on their shoulders. Other times, the trail twisted upward through rocks and saplings so treacherously that they had to scale it very carefully, placing each footstep in the exact right spot, or risk falling all the way back down. Fenris always ascended first—with light, quick steps—and then he would turn and watch her climb up. Jane never lost her balance and only slipped once—but she caught herself. He didn't say anything. And when she'd straightened up and nodded to him, dusting the snow off her gloves, he'd turned and kept going.

The shadows turned grayer, until the snow looked almost blue. Jane took a glance above and behind them. The sun was going down. She slowed down and let out a long breath. Vapor gusted from her lips. It was _very _cold.

She stopped. Her legs ached and her fingers and nose felt frozen. She looked back at Fenris. He slowed, then turned and faced her.

For a moment, he studied her. He lifted his eyebrows, and glanced down. Then, he turned right and left the track. Frowning, Jane followed him, quickening to a trot.

He swept through the trees, the edges of his coat brushing through the thin twigs of leafless bushes. Jane kept on his heels, stepping in the imprints his boots had left—for the snow was much deeper here.

They climbed a hill—Jane had to grab a few tree trunks to pull herself along—and Fenris paused when they reached the top. Panting, Jane came up next to him.

In the dim light, she could see a river, frozen on the edges but still flowing in the middle. On the far side leaped a great black cliff. On this side, a rocky peninsula jutted out into the water. The end of the peninsula broadened, and seven towering trees grew in the middle of it, standing in a circle.

"That will do," Fenris muttered. Jane's gaze flew to him—the sound of his voice surprised her. But he didn't wait. He started down the hill, through the trees, almost disappearing in the gathering dark.

Jane slipped down after him, and felt the ground change beneath the snow from earth to round stones. In the distance, she could hear the soft rush of the river. She trailed after Fenris' footprints and followed him down the peninsula. White, churned ice sat on either side: tides and currents frozen in a moment.

Finally, just as the sun dipped behind the mountains, they got to the trees at the end. Jane slowed, gazing up at them as she stepped between two trunks. The trees had grown so close together that their branches intertwined, covering the sky completely. It was like she was stepping into a living, wooden church.

"It's very dark," she murmured. "What are we—"

A crackling sound stopped her. She could barely make out Fenris' form kneeling on the ground, pushing brush together into a pile. Then, he stood up, took off his gloves and held out his left hand. He snapped his fingers.

Blue flames leaped up from his pile of tinder, blazing through the little hollow and lighting up his full form in sharp contrast of light and shadow. Jane gasped and stepped back.

He waved his hand over the fire—and the blue softened, and turned into a pale gold. Then, he put his gloves in his pockets, pressed both hands to his chest, took a deep breath, then exhaled as he raised his hands over his head.

A deep thud sounded—Jane felt it more than she heard it—and something humming and invisible began far above them, and trailed and trickled down all around them like a dome until it touched the ground…and sealed. Fenris pushed his hands outward, then dropped his arms.

And the next moment, it felt as if Jane had stepped into a warm living room with a fire in the fireplace.

The soft light from the fire filled the space, flickering against the branches and trunks. Jane pushed back her hood and unzipped her coat, her face tingling with warmth.

Fenris turned his back on the flames and began striking his hands together, as if he were dusting them off. Jane blinked and jumped back again. Blinding blue flashes leaped from his palms, and things began materializing out of thin air and tumbling to the ground: a pot stand, canned food, a can opener, bread, utensils, bottled water, Jane's bag, his bag, then a neatly-folded blue bundle that made up her tent, and another neat bundle of green velvet.

Jane watched, transfixed, as Fenris pointed offhandedly at the spit-like pot stand, snapped his fingers, then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. The metal rods flew past him through the air and assembled themselves over the fire, waiting for a pot to be hung. Then, he gave a deliberate look to Jane's tent, slapped his right hand with his left and then motioned sharply upward with his fingers. The tent billowed to life, and with a sudden rattling of poles, came together in an instant and stood right beside her. He turned and did the same thing to the bundle of velvet. It leaped up into a more old-fashioned shape, like a military tent, and seemed to hold its form with no supports at all.

The Lokistone sat warm against Jane's skin—it took a second for her to find her voice.

"Ha!" she finally managed, grinning. "I guess you'd call that 'practical' magic?"

"I suppose so," Fenris answered, sweeping his critical gaze across everything. Jane, still dazzled, stepped forward and picked up two cans of rich stew.

"It's fantastic," she declared, realizing she now had an opening to ask about the stone. "Come tell me about it! Here, come over here and sit while I make supper." She started toward the fire.

"No, thank you," he answered, pulling off his coat, picking up his bag and striding to his tent. "The shield I put around us makes us silent and invisible. You can pass through it and leave it behind, but you cannot get back in. It's best not to wander. Goodnight." And he pushed his tent flap aside and disappeared.

Jane's smile vanished. She stood there alone, staring at the fallen velvet, holding both cans limply in her hands. She glanced down at them, then bent and put one of the cans back with the rest of the food. She picked up a bottled water and the can opener and moved to the fire.

She took her time opening the can, pouring the water into the pot and hanging it over the fire, then stirring it with a long-handled wooden spoon she'd pulled from the neat pile of utensils she'd found wrapped in a towel. She burned her fingers once on the hot metal, winced, but made no sound—and she ate slowly enough to keep from scalding her mouth. Then, after cleaning up supper, she constructed a makeshift wash and brushed her teeth and combed out her hair and braided it.

She paused, glancing back at the fire before she went into her tent. It hadn't died down, but neither had it spread. She blinked. It was enchanted, of course—it would stay exactly where he wanted it for as long as he wanted it there. She turned her head, and for a long moment, she watched his tent. No sound came from inside. She took a breath, and almost called "good night." She stopped herself, swallowed and ducked her head. She rubbed her fingertips back and forth on her forehead, then stepped into her tent.

She got all ready—put on her pajamas, rolled out her sleeping bag and put her pillow down, then crawled inside. Everything here felt softer, warmer, quieter and safer than the place she had slept last night. It was dark—but not _too _dark—she could still see the flicker of the fire.

Jane turned over on her side and pulled her arms close to her chest, pressing her burned fingers to her lips.

Her throat choked and her brow twisted—she clamped the muscles in her chest, and didn't make a sound. But tears blurred her vision, and soon trailed down her nose and cheeks, dripping onto her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and let them flow as the distant fire crackled, and the icy river murmured beyond the border of Fenris' shield.

LLLLL

Jane shivered and beat her hands together as she trudged. Fenris glanced back at her and lifted an eyebrow.

"I'm fine," Jane told him. He faced forward again and kept walking. Jane cleared her throat and adjusted her hood. Night was falling again—they had been walking all day—and it was cloudy. Very small snowflakes had begun to wander down and settle. She could see the icy flakes on Fenris' ebony hair and coat. Silence surrounded them. It was so quiet, except for their footsteps, that Jane could almost hear a faint ringing in her ears.

They traipsed down a shallow canyon where she supposed a river had once lived. It wound and twisted—it was anything but a direct path—but Jane didn't ask about their course. She didn't have to. Everything about his posture told her that he was trying to keep them hidden. She just didn't know how long he meant for them to hide.

The canyon finally ended, and Fenris hopped up the icy rocks and climbed out. Jane bit her lip and followed him.

She put both hands on the stones in front and above her and started up, mindful of where she put her feet. Fenris' dark, lean form waited over her head. Huffing, she climbed as quickly as she could, and finally stood up at the top. For half a second, she balanced.

Then, her left foot slipped. She jerked backward. Her heart plummeted.

Fenris moved.

His arm snaked around her waist, and the next instant he pulled her sharply into his chest. Her hood fell back. She grabbed the front of his coat.

She looked up at him. They froze.

It was only then that Jane realized she was standing on his feet.

His deep emerald eyes locked with hers for a moment, then flicked over her features—and his brow softened. He raised his eyebrows.

"Are you all right?" Vapor issued from his lips. Jane studied his mouth for a moment, then blinked and nodded.

"Yes," she managed, unable to look away from him. "Thank you."

His expression changed again—tightened, sharpened—and he swallowed. But he didn't pull away from her either. Suddenly, Jane didn't want him to. He was so warm, and his arm felt strong around her—especially when her knees felt weak…

He let go of her—not quickly, thankfully, or she may have fallen again—backed up, inclined his head, then faced forward again.

"We need to make it to that stand of trees by nightfall," he declared, and resumed his long strides. Jane stood for a long moment, trying to catch her breath, then nodded hard and followed him.

LLLLLL

By the light of the small fire outside, Jane rolled out her sleeping bag in her tent, laid out her pillow and pajamas, and folded up her coat, snow-pants and gloves. She wore her jeans, boots, sweater and jacket, which were enough to keep her warm inside the shield. Her only trouble was that, all evening, hot and cold chills had been racing through her, originating from her chest. She tried to shake it off as she folded back the top of her sleeping bag, but her hands felt unsteady. Finally, she stood up, looked over everything, and made herself take a deep breath. Then she turned, pushed the slick tent flap out of the way and stepped back out into their new "room."

Fenris' shield had banished all the snow from the ground, leaving dry pine needles behind as a carpet. All around the campsite, a thick, black forest stood like a wall, towering over them, leaving no chink through which to see the sky. The fire, which stood exactly between both tents, flickered and crackled, filling their space with soft gold light and deep shadow. And Fenris sat cross-legged in front of the fire, the light lingering and dancing across him. Jane went still, her breath leaving her.

He wore his leather clothes from Asgard, the long tails of his coat spread out behind him. His arms rested on his legs, and he touched one pale hand to the other—he slowly drew a circle in the palm of his right hand with the forefinger of his left. His raven head was bowed—a few strands of hair, black as night, hung down across his white brow, and his long-lashed eyes followed the subtle movement of his hands. Once in a while, when the fire sparked, a glint of light crossed his eyes, turning them from black to a flicker of jade.

Jane's gaze traced his forehead and his nose, the soft shape of his lips, the curve of his chin and his jaw line, the form of his cheek bones and the glow against his skin; the way his head tilted, and the subtle furrow between his hawk-like, ink-dark eyebrows. She studied the broadness of his chest and shoulders, yet realized how graceful he seemed, even as he sat virtually motionless.

Then he lifted his face, just an inch, and stared across the fire into the woods. And the light illuminated his eyes, glittering across them, filling them with color—and it deepened the contours of his flawless face, revealing a breathtaking pain in the depths of him that stopped Jane's heart.

He was absolutely beautiful.

Jane began to tremble, and half of her wanted to retreat back into the tent. But that raw aspect that cut across him pulled at her heart, and so she stepped forward.

He heard her footsteps, and lowered his eyes again, folding his hands. She hesitated, then sat down close to his left, turned slightly toward him. The warmth of the fire touched her. She gazed out over the flames to the depths of the forest, and clasped her hands in her lap.

"What has roots as nobody sees,  
Is taller than trees," she murmured.  
"Up, up it goes  
And yet never grows?"

Only the crackle of the fire answered her for a long moment. Then, she heard his voice

reply—low and rough.

"This thing all things devours:  
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;  
Gnaws iron, bites steel;  
Grinds hard stones to meal;  
Slays king, ruins town  
And beats high mountain down."

She tilted her head, and watched his hard profile as the flamelight glimmered across it.

"Look at me," she said quietly. He swallowed, stayed where he was, then slowly turned his face toward her. For along moment, he just stared at the ground. Then, he blinked, and lifted his bright eyes to hers. An ache went straight through her.

"Are you all right?" she murmured earnestly. "You have those lines between your eyebrows again…" She lifted her hand, and stroked her thumb up the bridge of his nose and across his left eyebrow, smoothing the tension. She did it again, softly, and his eyelids fluttered. Again, and his brow relaxed and he closed his eyes.

Jane's hand lingered as her heart pounded—she reveled in the feeling of touching his face. So she turned her hand and caressed his smooth, warm forehead with the backs of her fingers, then smoothed the strands of hair back behind his ear.

He opened his eyes. She lowered her hand. For a long moment, neither of them moved or breathed—they simply held each other's gaze.

Then, he blinked, and focused down near her throat. His brow furrowed, and then cleared altogether. His lips parted as his eyebrows went up.

"What is that?"

Jane's hand flew to her neck—and her fingers landed on the Lokistone pendant. It had come out of her shirt.

"It's the stone you gave me," she answered, rubbing it and tipping her head down. "I didn't like the idea of putting it in a box, and I didn't want to keep it in my pocket because I knew I'd do something silly like wash it—so I had a jeweler put in a setting. Do you like it?" She lifted her head again to see him. He was already staring at her, as if he was looking right through her—yet it was as if he was seeing her for the very first time.

"Yes," he whispered. Jane glanced into the fire, trying to collect her thoughts—she knew she couldn't do that if she kept meeting his eyes.

"I was actually wondering about it—I've _been _wondering about it," she admitted.

"Oh?" he said faintly.

"Yes. It seems to respond when you do magic—it lights up, or gets warm," she explained, finally looking at him again. "Why do you suppose that is?"

For a long time, he said nothing, and that troubled tension came back to his brow. He searched her eyes, and swallowed. Then he looked down.

"I imagine, since it is made of magic," he said. "It makes perfect sense for it to respond when magic is performed."

"So what about the person who stole the Cube?" Jane wondered. "Would it do anything when _he _performed magic?"

He shook his head.

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Because this is from Asgard," he pointed to her pendant. "And his magic isn't."

"Are you sure?" Jane asked. He shrugged one shoulder and glanced into the fire.

"Try something, then," she suggested. "Conjure something, and we'll see what it does."

He looked at her again—as if he didn't want to, as if he was trying not to—but he did. Then, he faced forward, placed his palms together, then pulled them apart.

A blue light flashed—and the Lokistone heated in her palm.

"It did it!" she said. "I felt it—it got hot! It…What is that?" she asked, forgetting the stone instantly. For now he held a long, slender stringed instrument in both hands. It looked rather like a thin lute, but it was silver, and its surface color seemed to swirl like a deep river.

"It's an Asgardian instrument—I forgot I had it with me," he answered, sliding his fingers across the strings. A soft, jingling hum issued that sent chills down Jane's spine.

"You have to play it," she breathed, her eyes fixed on it. Then she watched his face. "Can you?"

The edge of his mouth quirked. He pulled it closer to him, held the neck in his right hand, and set the fingertips of his left hand on the strings. He lifted his chin, set his shoulders, and began.

Swift, delicate notes rang softly through the silence. Jane held her breath so she wouldn't miss a note, transfixed by the deft movement of his fingers.

And then he drew in another breath and began to sing.

"Blow northerne wynd!  
Send to me my suetyng!  
Blow northerne wynd! blow, blow, blow!"

His voice was light and pleasing, smooth and resonant—and the words, though Jane could not understand them—sounded complex and lovely in his mouth.

"Ichot a burde in boure bryht,  
That sully semly is on syht,  
Menskful maiden of myht;  
Feir ant fre to fonde;

In al this wurhliche won  
A burde of blod ant of bon  
Never yete y nuste non  
Lussomore in londe."

Jane's heart suspended—the air shimmered with the sound, and a tingling warmth covered her, as if she was being touched by a spell.

"Blow northerne wynd!  
Send to me my suetyng!  
Blow northerne wynd! blow, blow, blow!

Hire lure lumes liht,  
Ase a launterne a-nyht,  
Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht,  
So feyr heo is ant fyn.  
A suetly swyre heo hath to holde,  
With armes, shuldre ase mon wolde,  
Ant fingres feyre for to folde,  
God wolde hue were myn!"

He lowered his head and watched his fingers as they danced across the strings, finishing the song and then letting go, leaving the final notes to echo and fade into quiet.

Jane started to breathe again. He sat still a moment, then waved his hand and vanished the instrument. Jane edged a little closer to him as he flexed his left hand.

"What did the words mean?" she asked. "Can you translate it?"

"It wouldn't sound the same," he said, his voice a bit unsteady. "The rhythm will not be right…"

"It's fine," Jane said. "I'd like to know."

His mouth tightened for a moment, he frowned, and stared into the fire.

"Blow, northern wind—send to me my darling. Blow, northern wind, blow, blow, blow," he began, his voice low and purposeful. "Radiant in her chamber is the fair lady I know. She is so stunning to behold that this lady overpowers me—a fair and noble pleasure." He swallowed, and his head tilted toward her, though he did not lift his eyes. "Never have I encountered a woman of blood and of bone who could be more lovely in all this splendid world."

Jane's heart began to beat faster again, even as his voice grew softer.

"Her luminous cheek is alight like a lantern in the night," he murmured. "Her face gleams so bright. So fair she is, and fine. A lovely neck she has to embrace. Her arms and shoulders are all men could wish for, and fair fingers to enfold."

And then he raised his eyes and captured hers. When he spoke, his voice was broken and quiet.

"Would to God she were mine."

Warm, terrifying thrills raced through Jane's chest, and her breath stopped. For an eternal moment, neither of them stirred—Jane got lost in his brilliant eyes.

"Jane," he murmured gently, in a way that he'd never said her name before. Her heart fluttered. He turned his shoulders toward her, reached his left hand toward hers, then pulled back. He ducked his head a moment, his jaw clenched, and then he looked at her with a directness that froze her to the spot.

"Jane," he said her name again, as if it resonated deep inside him. "You asked about the Lokistone, and I…" He paused, leaning toward her. And then she saw something vivid and unfamiliar flash across his eyes:

Fear.

But he spoke anyway.

"Jane, there is something I must tell you."

Jane waited, hardly daring to breathe.

And then something caught the edge of her vision. She frowned, and glanced over his shoulder. He straightened.

"What is it?"

"Look," she whispered.

He twisted where he sat, and looked. He went still. He'd seen what she saw.

Far off, through the trees and the blackness, was a red light.

A single, distant, dim red light.

"What is it?" Jane mouthed.

Fenris' bearing turned cold. Slowly, he got to his feet. His eyes narrowed.

"We've arrived."

"What?" Jane gasped, getting up and stepping closer to him. He glanced down at her.

"Go get your coat."

Quickly, Jane darted into her tent and picked up her coat and pulled it on, then came out to him again. He had not moved.

"Don't you want a coat?" she asked.

"No," he said, his gaze cutting through the dark. Then, he held out his left hand to her.

"Take hold of my hand," he said. Then, he turned, and looked her in the eyes. "I am not sure what we will find."

Jane hesitated, then reached out and grasped his fingers. He secured his grip on her, interlacing their fingers, and stepped forward.

Jane felt it as they passed through the forcefield—it buzzed all around her head for just a second. Then, their feet hit ice-coated snow, and crunched. Icy air bit her cheeks. Then, Fenris lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers.

And the light went out behind them.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	17. Chapter 17

_Thank you, all of you—it is because of your enthusiasm that I am able to update so quickly. :)_

_During the first flashback, I listened to Beethoven's 7th. You may recognize it from "The King's Speech," and by looking that up, you can easily find this magnificently sad song. In that soundtrack, it is called "Speaking Unto Nations." During the second flashback, I listened to Mozart's "Lacrimosa."_

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect.

The wisest know nothing."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

_Loki wrapped his bloody fingers around the chains, arched his back and screamed. The cry wracked his whole body. His consciousness flickered as the iron links rattled against the wet stone. Agony needled into the base of his neck and seared across his shoulders. _

_ Another black drop fell. It hissed as it struck the bare skin of his left shoulder blade. He wrenched back and howled through his teeth. The shackles bit his wrists. Dark blood trailed down his forearms. _

_ He blinked away the sweat from his eyelashes and shot a glance up. His eyes could barely focus—but there, in its niche in the rocky wall, curled the massive, gleaming black snake, its immense head hanging several feet right above Loki's, its mouth lazily opening and closing, its red eyes leering, its fangs oozing obsidian poison that trickled downward over the crag. _

_Loki stood on a floor of jagged rocks wearing only his trousers, his wrists bound by chains to two natural pillars, his arms stretched above shoulder-level and held out to either side. Straight ahead of him, in a little grotto, bubbled a clear stream of fresh water—water he could never reach unless he tore off both his arms. _

_ Loki's eyes caught motion overhead—his heart hammered erratically as another drop of venom hung poised on the edge._

_ He ground his teeth, closing his hands into white-knuckled fists as he pulled down on the shackles, trying to break the chains. The sharp metal chewed into his flesh. He did not care—the poison was worse. The poison—_

_ It fell. It hit his right shoulder._

_ It was as if a red-hot shaft of steel had plunged straight down through him, penetrating his bones and lungs and gut. He thrashed, gasping a lungful of cold air, his eyes going wide. Smoke rose from the new wound and stank. Three more gasps tore through his chest, then sharp grunts tightened his abdomen. His stomach turned over—he knew he would soon be sick. His knees felt like water, and the muscles in his back and arms shivered uncontrollably. _

_ "What—can't you bear your punishment?" a rough voice taunted from behind him. "The great Loki the Cunning, simpering like a woman!"_

_ "Never thought I would see the day," another voice answered—they belonged to the two guards that stood a way behind him in the canyon, making certain he did not escape._

_ "You had better keep silent, you sons of dogs," Loki rasped, twisting his head toward them. "Or I swear I will murder you both when I am free."_

_ "More to add to your list?" another voice cut in—but these deep tones sliced straight through Loki's heart. He jerked his head to the front again and bit the inside of his cheek. Just then, another drop of venom struck his spine._

_ His teeth snapped together as his arms twitched—his footing slipped on the stones. Blood filled his mouth. And for the first time, hot tears tumbled down his face. _

_ "You think you deserve less, little brother?" that same voice thundered as heavy footsteps came up behind him. "How could you do something like this—to all of us?"_

_ "You think I meant to kill him?" Loki gritted, blood spilling from his lips and trailing down his chin. "Truly, that's what you think. After all the ages we've known each other—you think I am a murderer."_

_ "What else am I to think?" Thor roared. "You confessed!"_

_ "I confessed to letting an arrow off the string," Loki said, spitting blood onto the stones. "That is not the same."_

_ "How do you fathom that?" Thor demanded. Loki hung his head and closed his eyes, knowing that the next drop of venom loomed._

_ "You wouldn't listen if I told you. You are beyond listening," he muttered. Thor scrabbled around him, ducking under his arm and coming to stand in front of him. He was breathing hard. _

_ "Try me, Loki," he pleaded. "Tell me why you killed him."_

_ Loki lifted his watery eyes—to see that Thor was weeping too. Silver tears trailed from his blazing blue eyes and dripped into his golden beard. He wore no armor, and Mjollnir was nowhere to be seen—he was garbed in a long, thick tunic of white and black trousers and boots—and his face looked wan. Loki blinked, his tears tumbled, and more came. _

_ "You were at the tribunal—you heard the evidence. You've already made up your mind," he said flatly, his voice hoarse. _

_ "I have," Thor nodded, swallowing hard. "But I cannot believe it myself. None of your tricks ever harmed anyone—even Sif's hair was gotten over, but you…" Thor stepped closer, looming over Loki's head. "Tell me why."_

_ Loki shivered, and met his brother's eyes._

_ "I did it to save you."_

_ Thor's eyes flashed, and his lips parted. _

_ Then the venom hit._

_ Loki hissed, his muscles in his left arm clamping so hard he had to stand up straight—his elbow bent, and his wrist spasmed against the bindings._

_ "Gaahh…" he choked as his quivering muscles released and the waves of pain radiated outward from his new wound, then faded to throbbing. He staggered sideways, but was caught from falling by the chains. When at last he opened his foggy eyes, more weak tears falling, he saw Thor had gone pale. Thor's brow twisted._

_ "I don't understand." _

_ "And you won't," Loki sighed. "So leave me here and let me try to die with some dignity." _

_ "No," Thor stepped toward him menacingly, and grabbed the Mjollnir necklace at Loki's throat. He bared his teeth, his eyes burning into Loki's. "No, you'll not give me an answer like that and then dismiss me. What do you mean, you did it to save me?"_

_ Loki swallowed hard. The blood in his mouth turned his stomach sour. His vision clouded. _

_ "Thor, I can barely see," he confessed. "And I cannot…" He swooned, then stumbled to regain his footing. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I cannot even think well enough to tell you..."_

_ "Bear up!" Thor shouted at him. "Tell me!"_

_ "I…" Loki started—and then his gaze jerked upward. A large droplet of venom waited just there. His whole frame shuddered. _

_ "What?" Thor snarled. "Loki, you speak to me—"_

_ Loki's mind lost its reason. He twitched backward, flinging his head back, trying to escape the venom. Thor's hand still grasped his necklace—his arm was pulled forward. _

_ The venom struck Thor's arm. _

_ Thor howled like a wounded lion. He let go of Loki. Loki's eyes snapped open and he lurched forward again, gasping. _

_ Thor had fallen back, pressing his left hand to his right forearm, hissing through his teeth, staring at his injury. _

_ "Are you…Are you hurt?" Loki managed._

_ Thor's wide eyes flew to Loki's. Loki's filled with reflexive tears. They mortified him, but he no longer had any fortitude—it had been shattered._

_ "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have moved," Loki rasped. "Are you all right?"_

_Thor's eyes raced across Loki's upper body._

_ "What is it doing to your shoulders?" he asked, stricken. _

_Loki swallowed again—his throat was parched. _

"_Please, brother, just go," he whispered. "Leave me here before you're hurt further. Please."_

_For a long moment, the brothers just stared at each other—and Loki held his gaze, studying the lines of his older brother's face, memorizing them, even as more venom teetered on the edge. It would be the last time he laid eyes on Thor—the last time he would actually see him looking back at him before his eyes shut forever and his body burned on a pyre. Loki shivered as the snake gnashed overhead, but he stayed still, and did not turn. _

_Thor's jaw clenched. He glanced up. Loki braced himself, fear swelling inside his chest. He clamped his hands around his fetters, determined not to make a sound this time—though his legs felt on the verge of collapse. He began to tremble as his stomach clenched. He screwed them shut, his lips quavering. _

_Swift, heavy footsteps sounded. A shadow fell across him. Loki blinked his eyes open—_

_To see Thor towering over him—and he held out his bare hand and caught the venom in his palm. _

_A great shudder ran through his body, and his expression twitched. Loki stared at him, stunned. _

"_Guard!" Thor shouted, his voice only a little unsteady. "Give me your shield."_

"_But my prince—"_

"_NOW!" Thor shouted, and the rocks shook. A guard raced up behind Loki and handed him a circular shield. Thor lifted it up, and held it over Loki's head like a bowl—_

_And the next moment, a drop of venom struck the metal with a dull thud. _

_Loki never took his eyes from Thor's face. _

_Thor set his feet in a strong stance, holding the shield up with both his thick arms. He lowered his head, and looked right at Loki._

"_Talk quickly," he said. "I'm already tired of holding this up."_

_Loki's bloody lips parted, his breath jagged in his throat. But he nodded once, glanced around and tried to gather his thoughts._

"_On the…On the night before Balder's coming of age," he began, trying to make his ragged voice work. "I couldn't sleep. I was walking through the palace, counting torches—as I usually do."_

_Thor nodded, impatient. Loki went on._

"_I came across someone in the armory—it was the middle of the night, but I heard bellows pumping, and I smelled fire and magic. I went to see who was working so late." Loki took a breath. "And then I saw it—a short sword that looked like a comet. It lay on a table near the fire, so bright it lit up the room by itself. And I could feel it. Like an adder curled in the corner of a room. It was powerful, and wicked, meant for a single, swift stab. I stood staring at it, trying to understand its purpose—and then he found me."_

"_Who?" Thor demanded._

"_Our little brother," Loki answered. Thor stared at him. Another drop of venom thudded against the shield. _

"_Go on," Thor ordered, though his voice sounded weaker. _

"_He pinned me against the wall," Loki said. "And put a knife to my throat. He told me that if I told anyone what I had seen, he would kill me. I told him I wasn't afraid of him. Then he said that he knew what I truly was, and if I didn't keep silent, he would tell everyone the truth."_

_Thor frowned hard._

"_What you are?" he said. "What does that mean?"_

"_I don't know," Loki muttered, his heart twisting. "But it alarmed me. And so I demanded to know what he was doing. And he told me." Loki's throat closed. He took a deep breath, gazing at his brother. "He said he was going to kill you."_

_Thor's frame faltered. _

"_What?" he whispered. _

"_Yes," Loki nodded. "I told him I didn't believe it. He called me gullible, and a fool, just like all the rest of Asgard. I grew desperate. I warned him that Heimdall could see him—that even if I stayed silent, he would not get away from this unscathed." Loki's voice lowered. "He told me he had prepared for that."_

_Thor did not move. The venom hit the shield again. _

"_What did you do?" Thor asked, his brow tightening. _

"_Everything I could besides revealing what I knew," Loki answered, his fingers twining around the chains. "I followed him, I watched him—and I swore I would intervene if I ever saw him come near you in a secluded place. But then his dreams started."_

"_His dreams about dying," Thor remembered. Loki nodded._

"_And the…The request he made to Mother. About magical protection," Loki said, closing his eyes and fighting against a sudden wave of unconsciousness. _

"_Loki?" Thor let go of the shield with one hand and grabbed his elbow. Loki blinked hard and took a breath, then kept speaking. Thor let go of him._

"_He persuaded her to put that spell on him—the Mother's spell, protecting her child from—"_

"_From stones and spears and spells and all manner of sharpened blade," Thor finished. _

"_Yes. It made him invincible," Loki said. The venom dripped into the shield again. _

"_I thought we were undone," Loki admitted. "My last hope was the giantess in the mountains, the one who helped me make the Lokistones I gave everyone."_

_Thor nodded, watching him. Loki fought to keep going—his strength and voice were failing him. _

"_I flew to her, using my best invisibility spells, and confessed everything. She told me that the bonds of a mother's love are impossible to break, except by way of a little plant called mistletoe. And so I found some—just enough to make an arrow like the ones we used to shoot at each other when we were boys." Loki shrugged, a crooked smile crossing his face. "It wasn't even that sharp. It shouldn't have…But Balder was always fragile, and he…" Loki's throat locked. He lifted his eyes to Thor's. His brother wept. _

"_I didn't mean to kill him," Loki swore, his voice harsh and broken. "I never meant to break Mother's heart or make Father tear his clothes." Loki rattled the chains. "I meant to end the spell so you could defend yourself. But it went through and hit his heart and there was nothing I could do but scream."_

_Thor lowered his head, his breathing rocky. Then, he lifted his face again and searched his brother's._

"_Why didn't you say this to the tribunal?"_

"_Recall," Loki said coldly, lifting an eyebrow. "They hardly let me say a word. They had already decided."_

"_Then where is Heimdall?" Thor demanded through his teeth. _

"_In the dungeons, in the fifth cell on the right," Loki answered. "When I came back with the mistletoe, I realized Balder would try to kill him too, and most likely blame it on me. And so I took Heimdall—who knew everything—down below and made him safe. I told no one."_

_Thor stared at him a long moment. _

"_We will get him out," he decided. "And we will bring him here to see if you are telling the truth. Where are the keys?"_

"_There are no keys," Loki said. "Just words." _

"_What are they?"_

_Loki took a breath._

"_Thor lives."_

_Thor swallowed. Then, he lifted his voice._

"_Danehall!" he shouted. "Go to the dungeons, fifth cell on the right. Say the words 'Thor lives,' and bring the cell's occupant to me. And bring me Mjollnir!"_

_Loki heard footsteps instantly dart off in the direction of the palace._

"_Mjollnir?" Loki repeated. Thor leveled a look at him._

"_If you are telling the truth, I'll break the chains," he said. "If you're lying, I'll kill you myself."_

_Loki clenched his jaw. There was no more to say._

_In a matter of minutes, the guard returned with Heimdall. His golden presence filled the canyon. But still, Loki looked nowhere but at Thor. _

"_Mjollnir, your highness," the guard said, stepping up and handing the hammer to Thor. _

"_Hold this over the prince's head," Thor commanded, passing the shield to the guard, who did as he said. Thor hefted Mjollnir, glanced at Loki, then gazed past at Heimdall._

"_Speak, Gatekeeper," he ordered._

"_You must release Prince Loki," he said, his voice deep and smooth. _

"_Why?" Thor asked._

"_Because even though he has caused the death of one prince," he answered. "He has saved the life of another. One of your brothers was willing to kill you. And the other is willing to die for you."_

_Terrible silence hung in the air. Pain coursed up and down the inside of Loki's chest._

"_It's…It's true, then," Thor's brow twisted. "Balder meant to..."_

"_He did, your highness," Heimdall answered. "And he meant to execute Prince Loki, after he had been blamed for your death."_

_Thor staggered sideways, and fell against the wall. Loki hung his head. Long silence stretched between them._

"_Go back to Father, Heimdall," Thor said faintly. "Tell him everything you've told me."_

"_Yes, sir," he answered, and strode out of the canyon. Thor righted himself, and turned the hammer in his hand._

"_Move," he muttered to the guard. The guard stepped away, taking the shield with him. _

_The next instant, Mjollnir shattered the chains, vibrating and shivering them until they split apart. The shackles fell from Loki's wrists, and the links clattered onto the rocks. Loki lurched backward, shaking them loose, then thudded into a sitting position several feet from the venom fall. He looked down at his hands. The skin of his wrists had flayed open, and his hands and forearms were covered in blood. His shoulders burned as if scalding water had been poured over them, and his entire frame was sick and pale and filled with poisonous ache._

_Thor stumbled out in front of Loki, then, his breathing short and labored, he spun and hurled his hammer, letting out a bone-breaking wail. Loki's head came up just in time to see Mjollnir crush the snake's scull. The long, slithering body writhed and twitched, then tumbled like spilled water down onto the stones with a sickening splatter. The hammer slapped back into Thor's hand. He tried to heft it, then let it slip from his grasp._

_It clanged to the ground. Then, Thor sat down hard and leaned back against a rock across from Loki. He made a choking sound, and covered his face with his hand._

_Thunder rolled overhead. Cold drops of rain struck Loki's broken skin. He leaned his head back against the black rock and closed his eyes. Soon, the rain pelted down on the brothers, soaking them to the skin, drowning their hearing in a roaring rush. For what seemed like longer than eternity, neither brother moved or said a word—they just sat and tried to keep breathing, letting the rain cool their burning tears._

_L_

_ Loki, cloaked by the midnight shadows, hid from the blazing torchlight. He stood behind an alabaster pillar in the rear of the palace, just beside the constructed cove where the small royal boats were tied within marble slips. He wore the blackest attire he could find—with sleeves that came down to his wrists, and a collar that covered his neck. The rest of the court stood upon the paving stones out in the open. Loki's family gathered on a raised platform next to the port side of a small, narrow ship. Loki could see them clearly, for they faced him, but none of them sought him out. Their pale faces stared down at the wooden bed that sat in the center of the ship, its head pressed against the mast—and the pristine young body that lay upon it. _

_ Balder, draped in white and gold, rested with his hands folded across his chest—his delicate fingers hiding the fatal wound. A silver circlet sat on his flawless brow—his long lashed eyes were closed. His perfect features looked like a countenance carved in marble. His sunshine hair wreathed his head, gleaming in the firelight._

_ Loki's gaze lingered upon each member of his family. Thor, his strong arm around their mother, wore the same white clothes, his expression listless, his eyes dim. Frigg, her long hair undone, clung to Thor, but her gaze was fixed in horrified disbelief upon the face of her littlest. Tears ran down her cheeks. And Odin…_

_ Odin did not weep. He was beyond that. Such penetrating sorrow, anguish and regret had carved themselves into his face during the past day that Loki did not recognize him. He had aged—his shoulders bent, his head seemed heavy, and his hair had gone white as snow. _

_ Loki watched, his chest constricting, as Odin slid his hand out of Frigg's and shakily stepped down into the boat. He hesitated a moment, then edged closer and leaned over Balder. He stretched out a rugged hand and rested it on his son's pale brow. For a moment, all was still. Then, Odin's frame shuddered. Loki swallowed hard, and a tear escaped his guard. It trickled, cold, down his cheek and fell from his jaw. _

_ Odin bent down, and pressed a kiss to Balder's forehead. A strangled sob escaped Frigg's lips and she clawed at Thor. Thor turned and wrapped his arms fully around her, almost picking her up, so that he could press his face down against her shoulder. She flung her arms around his neck and wailed. Loki leaned sideways against the pillar, reflexively wrapping his arms around his middle, fighting to draw breath._

_ Odin slowly crawled out of the boat, and came to stand behind it. Thor managed to pull away from Frigg's embrace—a broken Sif stepped in and took hold of the queen instead. Unsteadily, Thor came down the steps, and Loki could see his tears now. Their father turned to one of the guards bearing a torch, and took it from him. _

_ The entire assembly stood still, holding their breath, watching their king. Odin faced the ship again, then stared at it as if he was suddenly seeing something he could not understand. His gaze searched for his wife a moment, lost. Thor put a hand on his shoulder. Then, Odin straightened, and threw the torch._

_ The image of the whirling fire burned itself into Loki's mind. The fire struck the fore section, the torch rattled, and the wood burst into flame. Then, the mighty Thor stepped forward, pressed his shoulder to the aft of the boat, took three steps and gave a single great heave._

_ The boat slid out into the water, waves rippling around its bow and rushing in duet with the hiss and crackle of the flames. _

_ Icy wind gusted down from the heights of Asgard and filled the sail. The boat enlivened, and swept out to sea. Loki's eyes fixed upon the gnawing flames as they surrounded Balder's bed and began climbing up his draped garments. _

_ And then they swallowed him—enveloped him completely in white-hot tongues. And strands of his shimmering hair severed and took flight, like weightless leaves of gold. _

_ Then, strange flecks of ice began drifting down from the highest sky in legions, to meet the smoke—they dotted the cloaks and heads of the onlookers—silent and subtle, chilling the air. And for the first time in all eternity, it snowed in Asgard._

_Loki turned away and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the icy column._

_They all knew. Some believed. Some did not. His family acknowledged the truth about Balder, and about what Loki had done. But nothing could assuage their grief, regardless of the evidence. Instead, it made it raw, reasonless. Inconsolable._

_One touch of Odin's hand and Loki's wrists had been healed, leaving only faint scars behind. But nothing could erase the black, ugly lines that trailed down his back and shoulders—and nothing could restore ruddiness to the pallor of his skin—the snake had marked him with a look of death for the rest of time. _

_Loki lifted his clouded eyes and found his little family again—Frigg had come down to stand in Odin's arms, pressed close to Thor. All of them gazed out at the gradually fading ball of flame that headed toward the pale light on the water. _

_Then, Thor turned his head and looked at Loki. _

_Loki did not recognize him, either. _

_And in that moment, something inside his heart cracked and broke away, and was lost forever. _

TO BE CONTINUED

_Please review!_


	18. Chapter 18

_Thank you, thank you, for all your lovely support! What would I do without you?_

_Note: the new character in this chapter is a mix between the comic books and movieverse—he's a "best of both worlds" version. :) Enjoy!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"They have taken the bridge

And the second hall.

We have barred the gates

But cannot hold them for long.

The ground shakes.

Drums.

Drums in the deep.

We cannot get out.

A shadow moves in the dark.

We cannot get out."

-The Fellowship of the Ring

Jane held on tight to Fenris' hand as they crept through the woods. She couldn't see anything except the faint outlines of trees, and that single red light. Their feet thudded softly through the snow. The cold nipped her face and fingers.

They ascended a gradual hill, the light growing brighter with every step. Finally, Jane felt stone beneath her feet instead of earth, and they reached the top of the hill.

The circular light stood about eight feet off the ground, partially covered with frost. And by its light, Jane could see a rectangular shape beneath it.

Fenris held out his right hand, and a soft glow sprang to life in his palm. Jane gasped.

It was a door. A gray, metal door in the mountain. She squeezed his fingers, and glanced up at him.

"Is this it?" she breathed. He stared at the door, his gaze keen and hard.

"Yes," he murmured.

"It looks electronic," Jane observed, glancing over it. "And there aren't any buttons or key-pads or handles or anything out here. It must just open from the inside."

Fenris stepped forward, pulling her along, and extinguished his little light. Jane blinked, momentarily blinded.

Then, a grinding, hissing sound made her jump.

And the door slid open, revealing a low-ceilinged cement hall, and a single, sterile white light hung on the left hand wall.

"How did you...?" Jane started. He looked down at her.

"Remember," he said, almost smiling. "Science is magic."

Jane couldn't summon a smile in return.

"So," she took a deep breath. "What's the plan once we're inside?"

Fenris lifted his eyes and gazed at the door.

"We will undoubtedly trip some sort of alarm once we step through. I expect we will be captured."

Jane stared at him.

"You…" she swallowed. "Then what?"

He turned and looked down at her. She could only see half his face by the light.

"Then you must trust me," he said. "For your own sake. I will try to make you as safe as I can…" He held her gaze. "But you must be clever. If you see an opportunity to escape, you must take it. If a fight breaks out, you must hide and make yourself secure. But if you believe _me _to be in danger…" He leaned is face toward her. "You must _not _move."

"But—" Jane tried.

"No," he cut her off. "I will have your word on that."

Jane stared up at him, squeezing his hand even tighter. But his look was so severe that she didn't have room to do anything but nod.

"Very good," he said, and faced the door again. "Shall we?"

Jane shivered. Now that they had finally come to it, she hesitated on the threshold. Fenris waited, watching her. Finally, she drew a deep breath, braced herself, and nodded again. Together, they stepped inside.

They had not proceeded more than ten feet before the door slid shut behind them. They stopped and whirled to face it.

"Well," Jane whispered. "At least it's not _totally _dark."

She felt Fenris' half smile, and he ran his thumb across the back of her hand. They faced forward again and kept walking, keeping their feet as quiet as possible.

The hallway stretched on for at least two-hundred yards, a white light hanging on the wall every fifty. Jane squinted ahead. Pitch darkness seemed to wait at the end of the hall. And at last, they saw why.

"Which way?" she murmured, for the straight hallway ended in a T shape, with one corridor heading to the left, and the other to the right. Fenris paused, as if pondering.

"It is difficult," he admitted. "Something inside the mountain is—"

A loud, sharp click sounded in Jane's left ear.

Someone grabbed the back of her coat and jerked her backward. She yelped.

Fenris spun around—there was a man behind him. Fenris struck him with his fist and sent him crashing to the floor. He did not get up.

Something heavy and cold and metal pressed against the back of Jane's head. Chills shot through her. She froze.

Fenris straightened, and stared at the one who had hold of Jane. He went still.

"What is that?" he asked quietly, looking first at Jane, then at her captor.

"No sudden movements," the gruff voice behind her ordered. "Or there's a bullet through her brain."

For a moment, Fenris stood where he was. Jane stared up into his eyes—and for just an instant, saw a single emotion there:

Resignation.

Then, his entire bearing transformed.

His shoulders relaxed, his eyes went cold, he stood up straight, and he raised an indifferent eyebrow.

"Is there a purpose to this exercise?" he asked lightly. "Or do you just mean for us to stand here?"

The fist grasping Jane's coat tightened, and she fought to keep her balance as the gun barrel bumped her head. Her heartbeat raged in her ears.

"I'm taking you to the boss," her captor snapped. Fenris frowned, then looked at him sideways.

"I imagined you would," he said, as if the man was stupid. "Isn't that the usual procedure when one comes across strangers in the hallway?" Fenris half smiled and gave him a pointed look. "Especially when one is trying to _hide_ something?"

The man hesitated. Fenris rolled his eyes.

"Really, this is incredible to me." He gestured to the stranger. "Are you not even going to ask who I am or what I am doing?"

"That isn't my job," the man answered.

"Oh, I see," Fenris nodded, then lifted his chin. "Wouldn't want to go above or beyond the call of your duties, would we?"

"Shut up," the man ordered, jerking Jane's coat. "Walk."

Fenris' eyes flicked to Jane's, but his expression gained a strange look of confident mockery as he raised his eyes to the other man again.

"Which way?" he asked.

"That way—straight," the man said, indicating the passage to the right.

"That way?" Fenris pointed. "Not the other way?"

"Don't be smart," the man clipped. Fenris smirked, then turned and began striding easily down the passage, like he was going for a stroll in the park. Jane's captor forced her to follow.

Jane clamped her jaw and her fists and tried to calm her shivering as the hand that held her coat shoved her forward, and the gun bumped against her head in time with their strides. Their feet tapped loudly on the concrete—except Fenris'. He was silent as a cat.

"Stop! Turn here!" the man shouted, as Fenris passed a left hand corridor and kept going straight. Fenris slowed, then sighed and turned on his heel.

"Forgive me," he shot the man an irritated glance as he came back. "I left my mind-reading abilities at home."

"I told you to shut _up_, moron," Jane's captor snarled.

"Oh, my friend," Fenris chuckled, shaking his head as he started down the right hall. "Your life is about to get _very _interesting."

Jane swallowed, wondering what Fenris was up to—he seemed very sure of himself all of a sudden…

More white, sterile light filled this corridor, and at the end of it stood a large set of double doors, guarded by two black-clad, armed men. Fenris strode down the middle of the hall as if he owned it.

"Open the door," the man who held Jane ordered.

The guards, surprised, started toward the keypad on the right. Fenris stopped, clasped his hands behind his back, and waited. The doors hissed open, and Fenris walked through them before they were finished retracting. The man shoved Jane after him, and they stepped over the threshold…

Into a vast cavern.

The ceiling was natural and jagged, but bright blue lights had been set into the stone, filling the space with cold illumination. Multiple levels of metal platforms, connected by bridges and staircases, filled the room—and the walls were covered with massive computers and generators, all blinking with green and red lights. It smelled dank in here, and the hum of machinery almost sounded like muffled speech. Rugged, thickset men wearing black and carrying guns prowled through the shadows on all levels. But directly in front of Fenris, Jane and their captor, at the end of a single, wide bridge, stood a circular platform beneath a powerful beam of light. In the middle of this platform, a metal pedestal held up a single object—a blindingly-bright object sitting in a square cage of crisscrossing blue lasers:

The Cube.

Jane's heart leaped.

Fenris stopped halfway across the bridge. The guard pulled Jane to a halt several feet behind him.

"Doctor?" her captor called. "Brought you something I found crawling around in the sewer."

"I hope you have a better reason than _that _for bothering me," a moderate, low voice muttered. Jane frowned, trying to peer into the shadows beyond the glow of the Cube—and at last she glimpsed a tall, cloaked figure facing a computer screen. She heard the faint sound of fingers clicking on a keyboard.

"Two intruders, sir," the grip tightened again on Jane, and the gun pressed hard on her head. Her face twisted, but she bit her tongue.

"That's mildly interesting," the cloaked man sighed. "What do they want—where are they from?"

"Asgard," Fenris answered. "I have been sent to collect the tesseract."

Jane blinked, and stared at his back in confusion.

The cloaked man stopped typing.

Then, slowly, he turned around—and the light from the Cube caught his face.

Or rather, the inhuman metal mask that covered it.

He loomed forward, his footsteps silent, until he stood beside the Cube pedestal. His hood shrouded the top of the angular mask—but Jane could see his dark eyes through its cut openings. His long green cloak draped to the ground, and beneath it, he wore a suit of armor that almost looked like Tony Stark's—but it was fashioned out of black metal.

The cloaked man tilted his head, his eyes fixed on Fenris.

"Asgard…" the man repeated, as if he was purring. "The tesseract…"

Jane could not see Fenris' face, though she wanted to strain against her captor so she could.

"You mean this?" the masked man pointed to the Cube.

"Unless you have four or five others around here," Fenris answered, sounding bored.

"But this tesseract was originally supposed to belong to Odin," the masked man replied. "Who are you?"

"He sent me," Fenris assured him, taking a couple steps toward him. "And he is very interested in who _you _are. You, a Midgardian who tosses magic about like a plaything and yet believes he can take and contain a weapon that does not belong to him."

The masked man straightened.

"I am Doctor Victor von Doom. Scientist, sorcerer, and ruler of the country of Latveria." His voice lowered. "And I hardly think you're in a position to dictate to _me_ what is and is not mine."

Jane sensed the men all around the cavern stop moving, and settle their hands on their weapons. Fenris canted his head.

"Well, I speak for Odin, son of Borr, the All-Father and Ruler of the Nine Realms," he answered. "And he bids you return to him his tesseract, or suffer the consequences."

The masked man chuckled. The chilling sound echoed through the cavern. Fenris did not move.

"You find that amusing?"

"You certainly play a convincing majordomo," the man admitted. "I'm confused by one thing, though. If you're a messenger from Asgard," He pointed past Fenris at Jane. "What is she?"

"Who?" Fenris asked. Jane's lips parted.

"That lovely thing back there," the man said. Fenris turned his head and glanced over his shoulder at her. He turned back.

"Oh, the mortal," he said. "She belongs to me. She led me to the tesseract initially. She's proven useful on occasion—enough that I had nearly reclaimed the tesseract when you commandeered it and brought it to this…place." He looked up and to the right, and Jane saw him give a distasteful look at the cave. "What is this pit, anyway?"

"So she isn't your girlfriend, then?" the masked man pressed. Fenris looked back at him.

"My what?" He sounded disgusted.

"Okay, I'll get to her later. Take her over there so she isn't in my line of vision," Doom waved his hand. "She's distracting me."

Jane's heart skipped a beat as the man with the gun jerked her down an adjoining narrow bridge to the right, and down three stairs to another lower platform. Jane could not see all of Fenris yet, just the side of him—but Doom had become much clearer.

Doom folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the pedestal that held the Cube, considering Fenris.

"Something else interests me," Doom confessed. "If this _tesseract _is so important to the _All-Father_," he gestured flippantly. "Why didn't he come to me himself? Why did he send some flunky to do his dirty work?"

Fenris laughed. The harsh, unpleasant sound sent shivers through the air.

"Oh, you are very lucky it's me. If he had come himself, hm…" Fenris shook his head. "Well, I would have enjoyed watching." Fenris looked down at his right hand cuff and straightened it with the fingers of his left hand. "No, he values this weapon a great deal, and wished its retrieval to be handled with care." He looked at Doom. "Which is why he sent his son."

Everyone froze. Jane's ears rang as she stared at him. She couldn't comprehend his words all of a sudden—

"His _son_," the masked man breathed, taking a step toward him. "Wait, you…But you aren't Thor," he said, holding up a hand. "I've seen photographs of Thor, taken a few months ago when he crash-landed in New Mexico. SHIELD tried to keep it all hidden, but I found what I wanted easily enough." The man straightened. "You don't look anything like him."

Jane felt the masked man frown, saw his eyes narrow.

"So you must be the other brother—the one I've heard stories about. The Troublemaker. The master of magic?"

"Your powers of deduction astound me," Fenris smirked.

"So…it's Loki, then," Doom said quietly. "You're Loki."

"My family calls me that," Fenris replied. "But mortals address me by my title: _Prince _Loki Odinson."

Jane found it suddenly hard to breathe—she couldn't understand what he was saying. It didn't make sense, he had to be bluffing—

Fenris lowered his head.

"Now," he said evenly. "I would be grateful if you would return the tesseract."

The man holding Jane suddenly jerked her forward again, down another short set of stairs, and Jane panicked that he was taking her out of the room.

However, he slowed down there, and stopped.

And now, Jane could see Fenris' entire front, illuminated in the glow of the Cube.

She didn't recognize him. He held his shoulders in an entirely different manner—strong, but reserved—and his expression was cold, his bright eyes tainted with a small smile of derision, his stance casual.

"_Prince_," he had said. _"Prince Loki Odinson…"_

No. It was impossible.

But right then, he certainly didn't look like a _guard_.

"Fascinating," Doom said, coming around to stand in front of the Cube and crossing his arms. "But you must tell me, Mr. Odinson—do you honestly expect me to just _hand _you this? _This, _the single most powerful and versatile weapon in the universe—just because you _tell_ me you are the son of Odin?"

"No," Fenris shook his head. "I expect you to hand it to me unless you want to die."

The masked man barked out a laugh.

"You plan to kill me _here_, in my own fortress, where I am surrounded by countless security systems, thousands of weapons and a small army at my command?"

Fenris smiled—it was a wicked sight.

"Imagine a force greater than you can comprehend," he murmured, articulating each word with icy purpose. "With weapons mightier and swifter than any you have seen in your short life—imagine a towering mounted king, on a horse of lightning. Imagine your little fortress shattered beneath the fist of Mjollnir and the crushing strength of the All-Father's staff." He paused, canting his head. "All of them here, upon you in an instant, should you refuse."

"Very pretty words," Doom commented. Fenris flashed his eyebrows.

"I can use uglier ones."

"Still, only words," Doom growled. "I might be more inclined to believe what you say if I saw a little proof."

Fenris' countentance turned dark and dangerous—his mouth hardened and his eyes blazed.

"Be careful," he warned. "I am not some court entertainer you can call upon to perform magic tricks."

"I have an idea—one that will take no effort," the man held out both his hands, palms out. "I want you to try something on."

Fenris suddenly looked at him sideways, eyes narrowed.

"You see," Doom began. "I've been suspecting that the famous magic-maker was on Earth for quite some time. I noticed all the commotion in New Mexico—who wouldn't?—and decided to look into it. Of course, I put pieces together and called in favors and used various spells, and found out everything there was to know about this Thor that had fallen from the sky, and left his hammer sunk into a rock someplace out in the desert." The man turned and pointed at one of his men, then waved him off. The man nodded, turned and left. Jane swallowed. What was going on?

Fenris just watched the mask, so Doom continued.

"I actually wasn't far away at all when that towering metal man was slicing things up on main street—and then being ripped apart by a flying _god_ with a hammer—what an incredible sight that was!" he marveled. "So I just camped out in that little town after he left, waiting. Because I knew—I finally _knew_—that Johann Schmidt truly _was _right. The Norse gods were actual people—and so their tesseract, their Cube, had to be real too. And it just might be nearby."

"That's very interesting," Fenris muttered, glancing around. "But so far I have only heard you discuss my brother."

"I told you, I camped out," the masked man retorted. "And so, when _more _things came flying out of the sky, I was right there. Unfortunately, I picked the wrong crater to explore first." He turned to see his guard stride back into the cavern—his guard, who carried a helmet in both hands.

It was a helmet unlike any Jane had ever seen. The part meant to protect the head looked angular, beautifully-crafted and vaguely Roman. But out of the fore part of the helmet arched two long, sharp, backward-curving horns. Its metal was polished, and gleamed silvery-gold in the light.

"I found this in the first hole I came to," Doom said as the guard came to stand next to him. "And it just…It radiates magic." He held out a gloved hand over the top of the helmet, but didn't touch it. "I knew someone else had come here from Asgard—someone even more powerful than Thor." He glanced up, and met Fenris' gaze. The look in Fenris' eyes had changed—but Jane still did not recognize it.

"So I went to the other crater. And if I thought the _first _one was ground zero for magic—ha! It was nothing compared to this one. I couldn't believe the echoes, the resonance. But I had some trouble deciphering them. It was clear that a _person _had landed there, though." He folded his arms again, thoughtfully. "But what _did _interest me was the fact that when Thor landed, and the metal man, and the four others that came to fight with Thor, they left intricate patterns in the sand, like Celtic knots. And when _this _person landed…" he shrugged. "Nothing. Nothing but a large pit. No marks anywhere."

Jane's mind began to fly, her memories spinning toward her with frightening vividness.

"_Remember what I told you about these circles?"_

"_They're signatures, and they mark that someone came from Asgard. It would be Loki's signature, not Thor's."_

"_And it lately came to everyone's attention in Asgard that Prince Loki can travel without the aid of the Asbru Gate. Which means—"_

"_If it was him, he wouldn't have left a mark."_

"No," Jane whispered.

"Shut up," her captor hissed in her ear. Neither the masked man nor Fenris looked at them.

"I paid close attention after that," Doom went on. "And it didn't take me long to sense him—the one who had fallen from Asgard. He's a master—completely and totally. I've never witnessed more befuddling invisibility spells or more graceful deflections. His technique was fascinating to study. It was almost like he was doing it unconsciously, without a single incantation or practiced movement. Like hiding was just part of his nature." The masked man paused, and Jane could almost sense his smile. "So I did a little research—and I began to suspect who it was I was following. Who it was that belonged to this helmet."

The guard held the horned helmet out toward Fenris. Fenris stared at it.

"I've done so many careful tests on the metal—listening to the magic that made it, and the magic that has surrounded it for all of its existence," the masked man said. "I _know _this is the helmet of an Asgardian named Loki. And I know that the one I sensed is him."

"I am intrigued that you could divine all that," Fenris said, gazing at the helmet—then looking up at Doom. "And yet you cannot tell who it is you're speaking to."

"I'm a man of science as well as magic," Doom replied. "I never rely solely on my feelings. So indulge my little test, will you?" He took the helmet himself. "Try it on. See if it knows you. If it does, we can talk. If it doesn't…" He motioned to his guard. The guard swiftly stepped around Fenris and leveled a revolver at the back of his head. Doom lifted the helmet. "Then I'll kill you," he said.

Jane jerked against the man holding her. He swore and grabbed a fistful of her hair and rammed the gun up under her jaw. She forced herself to stop moving—though her heart was tearing.

Fenris never twitched. His jaw tensed, and he stared at the helmet. Jane fixed on him, terrified. It wasn't his helmet. It wasn't. He was bluffing, and this stranger was just wildly guessing.

And if it wasn't his helmet—he would die.

But if it _was_…

Fenris reached out his toward it. Jane's breath caught and held in her throat. His pale hands closed around the horns…

And he turned it, spun it in his hands as if he had done so a thousand times, bent his neck—and slid the helmet onto his head.

It fit as if it was made for him.

He raised his head. The light gleamed and shattered across the smooth, pristine metal.

And the next instant, rattling jingling filled the air.

A metal collar leaped up from his shoulders and circled his neck, then the front of it raced down and crisscrossed over his chest in patterns of silver and gold. More curved plates bloomed on his shoulders, then flowed down over his forearms to create fitted armored bracers. And then, like a flag unfurling, a thick, deep-green cape spilled from the front of his shoulders, arched back over his shoulder blades and tumbled down to the ground, ruffling around his ankles and broadening his form. His shoulders now stood much wider, and his silhouette reached two feet higher. Suddenly, he bore a striking, shining, angular figure—one that radiated majesty and command. The guard's gun faltered, and he lowered it.

Dead silence hung for a long moment, while the masked man and all his minions stared.

"Prince Loki Odinson," Doom finally whispered. "It's an honor to meet you."

Tears filled Jane's eyes. She gulped them back. Her arms and legs had lost all their strength.

Fenris lifted his chin, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.

No. Not Fenris.

Loki.

_Loki_.

"Now that we understand each other," Loki said, minutely lifting one eyebrow. "I would like to be given what I came for."

"Certainly," Doom nodded. "I just have one more question for you." He lifted a finger and canted his head. "Why did Thor come here?"

"He lost his hammer," Loki answered lightly, shrugging. "An unfortunate mishap."

"And why did he leave?"

Loki's eyes narrowed.

"That is two questions."

"Indulge me," Doom answered.

"He had recovered his hammer," Loki said. "It took some looking until then, that is all."

"Yes, but he seemed to be in a hurry," Doom mused, putting a finger to the chin of his mask. "Who was it that sent the metal giant after him? Was it you?"

Loki went still. Jane's heart halted, then began racing erratically.

"It _was _you," Doom decided, pointing at him. "Why deny it? It's common knowledge amongst the SHIELD people that Thor went back to stop his brother—his brother Loki—from destroying Earth and Asgard and whatever else he'd set his mind to. And he did, didn't he? Thor stopped you, and threw you down here."

Loki's expression suddenly turned ugly.

"You're trying my patience," he said, in a low, savage tone.

"Then I'll get to the point," Doom shot back. "There _is _no army waiting to swoop in if I refuse to give you back this Cube—you're not on any mission for your father." Doom raised himself to his full height. "You don't want to take the Cube back to him like a good little errand boy—you want it so you can _kill_ him. And Thor. And whoever else stands in your way. And you know what?" Doom leaned forward. "I believe you're entirely justified."

Jane's tears fell now. They burned her—and her heart churned so hard she felt sick. Loki finally closed the distance and towered over Dr. Doom, his cape flowing behind him.

"I will ask you one last time," he hissed. "Give me the tesseract—or I will take it myself."

"No, you won't," Doom answered, staying where he was. "If anyone touches it without my releasing it, the mountain will come down on our heads." He pointed upward. "Instantly."

Loki's gaze flicked upward before knifing into Doom again.

"You are playing with something far deadlier than you can possibly understand," Loki hissed.

"That may be," Doom said. "But I'd rather not. BecauseI think we can help each other."

"You offend me," Loki bit out.

"Hear me out," Doom insisted. "I've been searching for this Cube for decades—honing my talents in sorcery and science and using every resource I possess—following in the footsteps of the Hydra commander Johann Schmidt. He possessed it for a time, but he never understood its full potential. He merely siphoned its energy like a battery." Doom shook his head. "Such a waste. But this Cube can do _so _much more! In the hands of someone who knows how to use it—someone who can fathom the power of the magic inside of it—it can grant any wish. Just like that." He snapped his fingers. "It's infinitely dangerous. I am told several people throughout history have been literally shredded by just touching it—but they were fools. They didn't take the time to become students of the life-blood of the universe. Unlike you and I." Doom met Loki's gaze directly. "We have so much in common, we two. We understand this tesseract, and we know the ebbs and flows of the galaxies. We know the way each world ought to turn, and how its people should be governed." Doom lowered his voice, but heightened the intensity of his words. "So here is what I propose: You will take me to Asgard, and with this Cube, I will help you conquer it. I will _level _Odin and Thor, and anyone else who opposes you, and set you on the seat of highest authority. Asgard will be yours, in its entirety. And in return, you will show me how to pass between realms the way the Asgardians do, and allow me the liberty of governing Earth, and whichever of the other realms that catch my fancy."

For a long moment, Loki studied that iron mask, his expression devoid of any humor. Jane closed her hands into fists, her breath suspended.

"You would kill my family," Loki began, low and even. "My father, my brother, my mother—and _you _would set _me _up as the ruler of Asgard. _You—_a mortal from Midgard. And _then _you would simply hand me the reins and let me be, never troubling me again, whilst you do what you like with the rest of the realms." A slow, poisonous smile spread across Loki's face, and then he gave a quiet laugh and shook his head. "Why in the realms would you do that?" He chuckled. "As soon as you had what you wanted from me, you would turn the tesseract upon me and make it so I never existed." He took a step back, kicking his head back slightly. "It was a valiant try, I have to say—but transparent enough."

"What makes you think that?" Doom said flatly, his voice dark. Loki grinned crookedly and took another step back.

"It's something I would do," he answered, holding his hands out to the sides. "And, as you said—we are very much alike."

Doom shook his head.

A nauseating, turning sensation twisted Jane's stomach and her skin went cold. She could see it in Doom's frame: he had decided something…

"Well, as you said—it was a valiant try, and worth it," Doom sighed. "I'm sorry we couldn't have trusted each other."

"Oh, so am I," Loki sneered.

"But you _have_ confirmed one thing," Doom said. "There's no one waiting to save you. You're here all alone, hoping to bide your time until I make a mistake—so you can get the Cube yourself and do exactly what I said you wanted to do." He paused. "Unfortunately for you, that won't be happening."

Jane's pulse slowed, until she felt her heart might stop. Her eyes darted back and forth between both men.

Loki settled, his expression still grimly amused.

"Pray tell."

"You've forgotten something," Doom said, stepping toward him. "You're in _my _realm now. And here, I have a right to change the game."

Jane caught it—a swift movement—

Doom lifted a silver pistol from the folds of his robe—

And pointed it at _her_.

Two flashes of light.

Two sharp shots.

Two thuds hit her bones.

The guard let go of her.

Her hands flew to her abdomen. She looked down.

Dark blood pooled in her palms and dripped from her fingers.

Her mind went blank, except for one thought:

This had all been a trap.

She staggered forward. A low cry came from somewhere—was it her voice, or someone else's?

Then, her legs went numb and gave way.

She crashed to the floor.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	19. Chapter 19

_Reviewers, you continually make my week! It is such a joy to write for all of you! Thank you, and enjoy!_

_(whilst writing this one, I listened to the Thor soundtrack, the song entitled "Brothers Fight." It's quite epic. Oh, and please look up the foreign italic words if you are interested.)_

_VVV_

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"If only something precious as time had a price  
Instead of endlessly taking its toll on my soul  
Oh, so many if onlys running through my mind  
What ifs and storybook endings time after time  
If only, if only you could have been mine  
I'd take you."

-Into the Blue

Two concussive bangs.

They vibrated his armor.

The air shivered.

Loki's heart stopped.

He turned, disoriented, his gaze flying through the cavern as his head rang.

"See if she is alive," Doom commanded.

Loki blinked.

She?

_Jane?_

His heart began pounding so fast there was hardly a space between the beats. His unfocused gaze swept wildly through the room.

_There_—he caught sight of the bearded man who had grabbed her in the hall, standing a level down, his gun in one hand, his attention downward. But Loki could not see Jane.

"What have you done?" Loki gasped. He felt as if two iron shafts had shot through his gut—an absent tear spilled down his cheek. "Where is she?"

A keening, choking sound came from the bearded man's feet—and Loki saw the edge of Jane's coat.

The next instant, Loki was beside her—magic surged around him and sent him sweeping across the empty space—and he threw himself onto his knees on the metal.

"Get back!" the bearded guard ordered, pointing his gun at him.

Loki lashed out with his right hand—a white blast, like a cannonball, shot straight through the guard's middle. The man crashed into a pile of machinery and collapsed, shattered. Loki did not even look at him.

Jane lay on her back, her face contorted, her dark eyes searching the ceiling, tears streaming down her temples. Her feet kicked weakly and her upper body shook—her hands pressed hard down on her middle—blood soaked her fingers and her shirt. Loki's hands fluttered over her, then found hers—they were slick and hot.

"Jane!" Loki cried, though he could barely make his throat work. "Jane? Jane—can you hear me? Jane…?"

She answered with a tight, visceral yelp and a choked sob.

"Oh, Jane…" Loki's eyes filled with tears. "Jane you must listen to me—I need you to breathe, all right? Stay with me? Jane?"

Her neck strained and she wrenched in a rattling breath.

"Oh, _alskling, _please," Loki begged, forcing his hands underneath hers and pushing his fingertips into the heated wounds, yanking tendrils of magic out of the air and trying to bind them like tourniquets, but they wouldn't hold. He let out an animal wail through his teeth, his white, blood-covered hands slipping. Jane struggled to breathe.

"All right, all right, we can…We can just…Jane, I need you to trust me," he rasped, panic rising in his throat. "I…I can repair this, but you need to…Jane?"

Her throat convulsed, and her eyes lost their focus—fluttered shut. He stopped.

He reached down and took hold of the side of her head, smearing blood across her pale cheek.

"Jane?" His desperate eyes searched her face.

The earth halted.

"Jane?"

Thunder slammed into him. It flung him backward and upward, sending him crashing over a railing. His back hammered into the wall. Rocks tumbled—the walls shook.

Loki, fighting dizziness, clawed his way back to his feet, sucking in air. Pain flashed through his old chest injury.

Doom hovered over Jane as if weightless. A blue, glowing, humming bubble surrounded Jane. And Doom let out a ringing laugh.

"I knew it!" he crowed, pointing at him. "I knew she meant more to you than you let on! But I must admit, you gave a winning performance."

"What are you doing?" Loki demanded, his words shuddering. "What have you done to her?"

"I'm shielding her," Doom answered smoothly. "It's a neat little trick, really, but it's limited. She's stable, her hemorrhaging is stopped. For now."

Loki's blood-slick hands closed into fists.

"Why?"

"I can save her," Doom said. "If you give me what I want."

Loki's heartbeat stalled. Doom floated closer to him, holding his hands out placatingly. "I know a spell—a binding, unbreakable spell—that will secure both our promises. You give me Asgard, and all the other realms…" He paused, and lowered his voice. "And I will restore her as if nothing had ever happened."

Loki stood, off balance, staring at Doom. All around the cavern, a hundred men lifted their weapons and aimed at him.

"Decide quickly, my prince," Doom advised. "She doesn't have much time."

LLLLLLLL

Odin stood on the balcony in his darkened chambers, his hands resting on the cold stone railing. He had awoken to the roll of thunder, and turned over in bed to see that his wife was not beside him. He had sighed and rubbed his face, knowing that she was sleeping in Loki's room again. Then, he had pushed the covers off himself, gotten up, and wandered toward the cool breeze that ruffled the curtains.

He now gazed out over the darkness of the city and gardens, and glanced up toward the stars—but he could not see them. They were shrouded by deep, churning clouds occasionally pierced by shafts of blinding white. Odin sighed again. These storms of Thor's had become as common as Frigg's practice of visiting her lost son's room.

But then, a tapping sound came from behind him—a sound that _was _unusual. He turned—

To see the shining Heimdall shove through the broad doors of Odin's chambers and stride right in.

"What has happened?" Odin demanded, stepping toward him.

"All-Father," Heimdall said, bowing at the waist. "There is something you must see."

"Can you not tell me?" Odin asked, watching the dark, expressionless face and gleaming gold eyes. Heimdall shook his head.

"I believe it is best for you to witness it yourself."

Odin paused, realizing what Heimdall implied.

"But is it not terribly taxing for you?" Odin asked.

"It is," Heimdall acknowledged. "But for this, I am more than willing." He stretched out his hand to Odin. Odin hesitated, his mind flying through all of the possibilities…

He reached out and grasped the strong fingers in his own. Heimdall's eyes drifted shut…

Odin straightened—it was as if he had been struck by lightning—

Then, his sight opened up to the vastness of the galaxies…

And focused down on a single, small space on Midgard, in a blue-lit cavern beneath a mountain.

Odin gazed for a long time, slowly realizing what, and _who_, it was that he could hear and see. And when he spoke, his voice trembled.

"Is there nothing we can do?"

"We can only watch," Heimdall replied tightly, not moving, not opening his eyes. "And hope."

Odin's heart wrenched and he swallowed, but he was helpless—helpless to protect, helpless to save…

He squeezed Heimdall's hand, his gaze fixing on the sight of a single person, held his breath—and watched.

LLLLLLLLL

Loki's whole body shivered, his breath cold. He glanced down at Jane's still form beneath Doom's shield. He sucked in a breath and found Doom again.

"What will you do with Asgard?" Loki asked hoarsely. "With its rulers, its people?"

"What all conquerors do," Doom answered frankly. "Kill those who resist, capture those I defeat, and rule over those who surrender."

"Odin and Thor will never surrender," Loki rasped. Doom shook his head.

"I wouldn't expect them to," he glanced over at the tesseract. "But with the Cube in my possession, I doubt I will have much trouble with them."

Loki swallowed hard, feeling as if he had broken glass in his throat.

"You're going to kill them," Loki said, violent, nightmarish images flashing through his mind. "Princes and kings and courtiers who have lived and reigned for thousands of years."

"Maybe," Doom shrugged. "Or, once I get there, I may eliminate their existence entirely—make it as if they never lived at all."

Loki's bones shivered.

The Mjollnir necklace hummed against his breastbone.

Doom barked out a laugh.

"But it's a win-win situation, isn't it?" he threw out his hands in disbelief. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Loki gazed at him for a long moment—and then his eyes were pulled to the brilliant glow of the tesseract. He could feel each one of his heartbeats, feel his blood pulsing through his body. Then, at last, his gaze came back to rest on the woman beneath the shield.

A displaced memory rose up before him—her brilliant brown eyes, shining back at his as if she could see right through him, her voice soft.

"_I could almost see it, you know? Asgard. The way you described it. The shining towers, the rainbow bridge, and the light on the water…"_

Loki's heart broke. He literally felt it—it pulsed once, so hard that pain shot through every single vein, and two final tears fell. He closed his eyes as the water scalded his face.

"Do we have a deal?" Doom pressed. Loki drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

"No," he said. He opened his eyes, and met Doom's.

"What?" Doom cried. "I…Wait, I can't believe that. Tell me I'm hearing you wrong."

Loki's jaw tensed, but he shook his head.

"You are not," he hissed. "We are finished here."

He clapped his hands together, then swiftly parted them. A bolt of white energy leaped to life between his palms. Loki grabbed it in his left hand and hurled it at Doom.

Doom jerked backward, summoning a curved energy shield. The shaft slammed into it.

It ricocheted upward and exploded, flooding the cavern with blinding light.

A thundering scream echoed against the rocks.

Loki and Doom roared and leaped at each other, snatching handfuls of deadly magic as they flew.

In mid air, they slammed into each other—and the mountain shook.

LLLLL

Thor limped through the darkened marble halls of the palace as fast as he could, his left hand pressed to the right side of his chest. He winced with every step, his teeth grinding. Overhead, his black storm clouds rolled and churned, and thunder rumbled like the growl of lions.

"Father," he called, cold sweat breaking out on his brow. "Father, something is wrong!" He pushed through his father's heavy bedroom door—and slowed.

His father was already awake, standing near the window, his hand grasped by Heimdall. Heimdall's eyes were closed, but his father's was open.

"What are you doing?" Thor asked.

"Watching," Odin said softly, though he did not move. "What is it, my son?"

Thor took a tight breath.

"Something has happened to Loki," he said. "He is in danger. I can feel it. And I…" He stopped as another terrible pain traveled up his side. "I don't know how, but I know he is hurt. Here." He put his hand to his ribs.

"That is exactly what has us occupied," Odin replied, still not looking at him, his gaze unfocused.

"What—you can see him?" Thor asked, stepping closer.

"Yes, we can," Heimdall answered. "Right now, he is not hiding. He cannot."

"What is happening?" Thor pressed, searching both their taut faces. "Is he all right?"

"He does not seem to be deeply wounded," Odin said, though his mouth barely moved. "Though he is in the midst of battle."

Thor's heart skipped a beat.

"What can we do?"

"You can go and comfort your mother," Odin advised. "She is in his room."

"But—"

"I will tell you the outcome," Odin murmured. "But for now, it is too difficult to speak."

Thor stood for a long time, his jaw muscles clenching, the pain throbbing through his ribs. But finally, he nodded, turned, and swept out, heading down the hall to Loki's childhood chambers.

LLLLLL

Loki and Doom ripped apart. Both slammed onto their backs on different platforms. Loki clawed to his feet, grabbed a handrail—

And threw up a hasty shield as lightning exploded from Doom's hands.

Electricity hammered into Loki, and he leaned his shield into it, gritting his teeth.

Again and again, Doom sent the fiery bolts slicing through the air. They hissed and snapped and flashed, cracking Loki's shield, writhing like blazing snakes.

Doom paused and regathered. Loki split his shield into two and shrank them. Doom hurled another barrage—

Loki batted it back.

Sparks showered. Lightning tore back at Doom. Doom threw himself to the side. Loki dissipated his shields, drew a deep breath and shoved both hands forward.

A concussive blast pounded from his palms. It crushed Doom's platform, sending pieces flying. Metal shrieked. Doom leaped off, flying upward.

Loki aimed and fired again. It missed—rocks shattered and rained down. Loki's gaze suddenly flew to Jane—

Doom had abandoned his shield. She lay bleeding, vulnerable.

Loki waved his left hand. A green shield leaped up around her. The next instant, falling stones pelted it and disintegrated.

_Boom_.

Loki's vision went black. For half a moment, he was suspended. Then his back punched into the stone wall. He collapsed onto a walkway. He opened his mouth and pulled in a tearing gasp, his fingers closing around the metal chinks in the floor. He scrambled to his knees, pressing his hands to his breastplate. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, making them focus.

Doom, across the cavern, wound up, and fired another blast at him.

Loki leaped to his feet and threw himself toward it, roaring.

He thrust his hands out and crushed the blast with his own, splintering it. The bits peppered the walls like machine gun fire, ripping through the ranks of Doom's guards.

Loki whirled, conjured a throwing blade and let it fly.

It sang as it sliced the air. Doom threw himself against the wall.

The blade clipped his shoulder. It hacked through his cape.

Loki stopped for an instant, braced himself and ignored the hammering pain in his side. He reached out, took fistfuls of black magic, whirled them around himself and then flung them toward the ceiling.

Whirling black clouds rushed upward, pulsing and seething—

And took form, shaping into the rippling, gleaming body of a deep-green, three-headed dragon.

The dragon's glowing red eyes opened, and its wide jaws yawned to reveal rows of dripping, venomous fangs. Its tongues rippled and it hissed deep in its throats. It set its massive clawed forefeet on either side of Loki, reared its heads and unleashed a torrent of white flame at Doom.

Doom's cloak caught fire. He whirled away from the blast, ripped the cloth off and flung it down.

"_Dragen, __ødelegge__!"_ Loki barked. The dragon screeched and lunged at Doom, jaws snapping.

Doom jumped, summoning magic underneath him. He soared upward, power blazing in his hands. Loki swept his cloak, the dragon swerved to avoid Doom—

Doom's shaft formed a sword. It hacked through the center dragon's head.

The illusion broke and scattered into mist.

Doom crashed down in front of Loki and swung his fiery blade.

Loki spun back, his cloak flying, and summoned his own white sword.

The blades clashed. The air shivered. Loki twirled his lithe blade and slashed at Doom's head. Doom met the swing in the middle.

Back and forth they danced, whirling and battering, striking with all their force. The blades hissed against each other, snapping and grinding. Blinding light flashed with every blow. Loki's blade glanced Doom's helmet. Doom's tip skidded across Loki's breastplate.

Doom dodged Loki's stab and grabbed his wrist. He hit Loki in the face with his armored elbow.

Loki tasted blood. His ears rang. He wrenched out of Doom's grip, turned and cracked the back of his helmet with the butt of his sword. Doom stumbled sideways and let go of his weapon. Loki spat blood onto the floor and bared his teeth. He advanced and raised his blade.

Doom leaped backward, off balance, and flung his hands out.

An explosion rattled Loki's bones. He recoiled, letting go of his sword.

Thick green fog enveloped him. He could see nothing—

And it began to sting his eyes, choke and stifle his lungs, and claw at his armor with a sound like grinding teeth.

A flash came from his right.

And all at once, Loki could not move—his muscles froze.

The whole cavern filled with impenetrable mist. He squeezed his eyes shut as they watered, fighting to unclench his jaw.

"_F…Frihet," _he muttered.

His body snapped free of the binding spell. Then, he crossed his arms over his chest, spun one last time—

And vanished himself.

He soared, weightless and invisible, up to the peak of the cavern, blowing out an icy breath that cleared the mist away from him. But he could see nothing beneath him but rolling green fog.

Then, the lights went out.

The cavern plunged into blackness—

Except for the piercing shine of the tesseract.

Loki gathered magic, grasped and twisted it.

He flashed back into being and set both feet down on the tesseract's platform.

The next instant, Doom lunged out of the mist, swinging a flaming knife.

Loki clapped his hands.

Doom jumped back from the flash.

Loki clamped his fingers around the Frost Giants' glowing blue ice casket—

And blasted Doom with an onslaught of swallowing, rushing, iron-hard ice.

It billowed over him like a wave and held him like a vise. His motion locked, and his knife extinguished.

The ice flow stopped. Loki lowered the casket.

For an instant, he stared back into those enraged, shadowed eyes behind the metal mask, now coated with frost. Then, he hid the casket again and stepped up to the tesseract.

The glow of it dominated his vision, even though the guardian lasers interrupted its shine. And once again, as it had the first time Loki had seen it, wisps of magic danced around it like fireworks, setting his pulse pounding, shooting thrills and sparks down to his fingertips. And the tendrils pulled his heart toward that sapphire light like an iron chain.

But he knew now—knew it as surely as he breathed—that if he put out his hand and touched its surface, something in the fabric of the universe would rip in half.

And there was a great, wild chance that he would as well.

There was only one thing to be done.

He stretched out his hand and put it through the lasers.

Red lights flashed on.

Sirens tore the air.

Explosions blasted overhead.

Loki stood firm.

He motioned with his fingers. The tesseract leaped up off the pedestal.

Loki's whole being shuddered. He placed shaking hands to either side of it, not touching it.

And then he vanished it, setting it alongside the casket.

The ice of Doom's trap began to crack and splinter. Loki could hear his muffled bellow.

Loki whirled, searching. Flashes up above blinded him.

Rocks began tumbling down from the ceiling. A boulder fell and decimated the long, wide bridge near the door. The metal beneath his feet rattled.

Loki closed his eyes and quieted his mind.

There. There it was.

The small, resilient, glimmering light of the Lokistone.

He flashed toward it, popping out and into existence in a heartbeat.

He flung himself down beside Jane's motionless form. The Lokistone shone like a star against her bloody chest.

The whole mountain groaned. The ceiling split in two.

Loki slid his arms beneath Jane and lifted her up. She weighed almost nothing.

With one arm, he pulled her to his chest. With the other, he wrapped his cloak around them both. He pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes.

A massive stone broke away and hurtled down upon them.

It hit the tips of the horns of his helmet.

They disappeared.

And with one last heave, the mountain swallowed the cavern.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Please review!_


	20. Chapter 20

_You all are so fantastic. I couldn't ask for better reviewers!_

_This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend SunnyZim, for her continual encouragement. It is also dedicated to 153alira on youtube, who made a Loki/Jane vid partly inspired by my story—which has further inspired me. :)_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Hope fades

Into the world of night

Through shadows falling

Out of memory and time

Don't say

We have come now to the end

White shores are calling

You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms

Just sleeping…

What can you see

On the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea

A pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home…

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

Grey ships pass

Into the West…"

-Into the West, Return of the King

Tearing rushing whirled around and through them as they blasted through the narrow tunnel Loki forged as they flew. Crushing pressure threatened to crack his armor and his defenses—he tightened his grip on Jane and held his flapping cloak firmly around her, pressing his chin down on the top of her head. He pulled her slender body against his, both arms surrounding her, while white flames and wind raged all around them.

His bones shuddered and he screwed his eyes shut as his speed and force tried to tear him in half. But he clamped down on his course, refusing to waver as he carried her through a new tunnel in the universe—a secret passage outside the well-known gates—a tunnel whose fabric could shred them in an instant if he made a single misstep.

He could not breathe. He could not see. The damage that Doom had reopened in his side promised to break him, and heat and weight rattled all around him.

And then…

A light.

He raised his head and opened his eyes, staring straight upward.

There. The glimmer of a thousand colors. And the piercing rays of a rising sun.

With a clap of thunder, he broke loose of the binding passageway. He gasped, his control slipped, and he crashed to his knees—

On the jagged edge of the Asbru bridge.

He opened his eyes, his breath shuddering in his chest. He stared down at the ground.

Countless bright colors shimmered and winked at him, glittering in the bright morning. He slowly lifted his face.

Sunlight dazzled his eyes—and flashed off the helmets and armor of the giant guardian statues that flanked the endlessly-stretching bridge. Light glittered off the rippling water of the thousands of fountains that poured from the foundations of the realm and spilled down into the lush green forests below—he could hear the falls softly singing. Warm wind brushed his face. The scent of laurel and lilac and rain filled his lungs, as did the smell of the sea.

The plaintive cry of gulls hit his chest, and three white birds darted over his head and swooped down over the frothing, sapphire water to his left, then climbed through the sky, drawing Loki's gaze up, up, up…

To the flashing of the distant bronze and silver towers of the palace. Towers that stood higher than any mountain, like vast, elegant flutes reaching to the heavens. And above them, the sky opened, and the galaxies spread in a tapestry of velvet black, soft gold, cutting silver and sparkling purple.

A dart of pain went straight through his chest.

He gulped, and his gaze fell upon Jane's face.

She was white. Her long-lashed eyes stayed closed, motionless. Her soft body lay limp. Loki pressed a bloody hand to her throat.

He felt a single fluttering beat.

He clumsily wrapped his weakened arms around her again, and hauled himself to his feet, cradling her. He staggered forward, forcing himself to take long strides as his boots rang against the crystal surface of the bridge. His whole being felt cold. Where was Heimdall?

He passed the sentinel statues, gathering what strength he had left, then began to summon magic. He threw it out in front of him like a carpet and leaped up on it—it carried him like a bird for thousands of feet. He landed lightly, took three running steps, then did it again. He soared over stone bridges, thudded across meadows, and splashed through an icy stream, until he came to a single thick gray wall that stood in the shadows of the mighty trees. He paused, glancing up. He could see the railing several stories above him. He gritted his teeth, bent his knees and jumped.

He shot upward, pulling Jane tight, then stepped over the railing and landed hard on a white marble balcony.

Before him stood several wide pillars hung with sheer white curtains—and beyond them waited a vast, cream-colored, sun-bathed circular chamber filled with a ring of broad beds swathed in soft sheets. He strode forward. The curtains blew aside to let him through. He stopped in the center of the stone floor.

A dozen women clad in flowing white, their hair up in elegant braids, halted. Some were in the midst of making beds, others carrying bowls of water or bottles of salve. They all froze and stared at him. None of them made a sound. Their wide, lovely eyes stared. Only the small stone fountain in the middle of the room—a figure of a boy pouring a pitcher out—made a soft ringing.

A woman with tumbling, curling red hair, about Frigg's age, with her arms full of pillows, very slowly set them down on the foot of a bed. Her brown eyes earnestly searched Loki's—he remembered her beautiful face from his earliest memories. She had tended some of his clumsiest injuries as a boy, and her lessons filled the storehouses of his memory…

"Loki?" she whispered. Loki staggered, and fought to stay standing.

"Eir," he rasped. "She needs you. She is from Midgard, but I beg you, tend to her—please, I cannot…I tried, but I cannot…"

Eir's bright eyes flashed across Jane, who he cradled in his bloody arms. Then, she met Loki's gaze, a fervent light entering her eyes.

"Of course, dear!" She swept toward him. The other ladies hesitated.

"_Move!_" Eir commanded, taking hold of Jane's arm. The other ladies broke out of their trances and rushed toward them. Eir began shouting orders and the women darted about in an organized flurry, calling out for sheets and bandages—they pulled Loki toward the closest bed and made him lay Jane down. Then, they shuffled him out of the way and crowded around her, sweeping their hands over her, feeling her throat and wrists and face. Loki stepped to the side, absently holding his blood-covered hands out in front of him. They stripped off Jane's coat in an eyeblink, then rolled up her shirt to expose the wounds. Loki jerked his head away, his eyes stinging.

"She lives!" cried a young healer. "But her heart is weak—she has minutes!"

Loki's eyes flew open and he took three steps back.

"Eir!" he cried, unable to see through his tears.

"Let me see, dears," Eir slipped between the ladies, sat on the edge of the bed and bent over Jane. She pressed her long, delicate right hand unflinchingly down over the wounds and closed her eyes. The other women watched her and studied Jane, their faces serious and intent. Loki felt magic begin to hum between Eir's fingers.

"What is her name?" Eir murmured, her brow furrowed.

Loki drew in a rough breath.

"Jane," he whispered, seeing nothing but Jane's pale, lovely face. Eir lifted her fiery head and stroked Jane's forehead with her left hand.

"Dearest Jane," she said soothingly. "Sweet Jane…You are loved and waited for." Eir smiled and caressed her hair. "Do not leave yet. Sweet Jane. Come on, dear heart. You can hear me. I know you can."

The healers all held their breath. Loki's breathing came short and painfully.

The smile faded from Eir's face. She shook her head.

"She should be dead. I believe it is the talisman that is keeping her heart beating. Well done, Loki." Eir gestured to the flickering Lokistone. "But its power is almost exhausted. I myself can sustain her for a while, but I cannot heal her. Not quickly enough. She needs someone more powerful." Eir looked at Loki, and then said what he had feared—but had known—she would say all along. "She needs the All-Father."

Loki's hands closed to fists and drew himself up—though the pain in his side knifed him.

"I will go," he said. "I will go to him, and bring him here." He reached up and pulled off his helmet. Then, he stepped around and set it on the small bedside table beside Jane. He let go—he left bloody fingerprints on the helmet's horns. He gave Eir a severe look. "Keep her alive until I return."

None of the healers answered. Loki turned, strode through the chamber and out into the corridor, and made straight for the throne room.

LLLLL

Loki's heart hammered—he felt sick and light-headed. He swallowed, and swallowed again. His mouth was dry. He fixed his gaze on the floor just in front of him. He made himself walk fast, weaving through the corridors on the quickest route, praying he would not meet anyone on the way.

His lips moved minutely as he muttered, rehearsing exactly what he would say over and over. His sticky fingers flexed, his steps hitched—he kept walking, faster, faster. He turned the last corner.

He ascended wide steps. His footsteps tapped on gray stone. He passed between two giant pillars hung with scarlet banners. Then, sunlight flooded his vision.

He slowed, descending two steps before stopping. He blinked, clearing his dazzled eyes.

And there in front of him stretched the vast throne room, the golden light of the dawn streaming through it. The long red carpet extended like a road before him across the bronze floor—and at the end of it rose the majestic staircase, and the arms of the golden throne, spread as if to embrace the whole room. Loki's footsteps faltered, his eyes searching the reaches of the chamber. He had to keep going…

He finished descending the steps, and his feet landed on the velvet of the carpet.

Movement caught his eye. He stopped.

At the far end of the towering room, a man hurried in from a side door—as if he had seen Loki coming from a long way off and had rushed to find him.

Loki's heart wavered.

It was Odin.

Odin, dressed in his night clothes and a draping purple coat. His long white hair looked windblown. He wore no adornments, and no shoes.

He slowed down. He saw Loki. Loki's whole body shuddered.

And then—

Odin began to run.

He raced toward Loki, crossing the vast distance in a matter of moments, panting, his brow twisted. Loki's composure shattered. He tried to look elsewhere—at the ground, the walls, the pillars—he glanced at Odin only to flinch away. He longed to flee, but he stayed rooted to the spot.

And then the king stood in front of him. He halted, breathing hard. His gaze fell upon Loki, and Loki could not meet it. Every single word he had rehearsed fell to pieces and scattered.

Long silence suspended between them. Finally, Loki made himself speak, though each word hurt.

"I…I know—I _know _I shouldn't be here," Loki stammered. "I know it, and I…I swear I will leave in an instant—but there is a mortal here. I brought…She is wounded." He swallowed hard, fighting to steady his voice. "She is…She is dying," Loki fixed on the ground as his hands fervently worked trying to get the blood off his fingers. "I have no right to ask you anything—and I don't, not for myself—but I…I beg you to help her. I brought…I brought this—" Loki battled to focus, snatching at the remnants of his plan. He rubbed his quivering hands together and let magic flash between them. He shied away from the brilliant blue glow, refusing to look at it—and let the tesseract float above his fingers.

"I've…I've recovered it from Midgard," he tried. "It's extremely powerful—one of the most powerful weapons in the universe. Please…Please take it, in exchange for her life."

He dared to lift his eyes, just for an instant.

Odin gazed at the vibrant glow of the tesseract, his chiseled brow furrowed. Slowly, he lifted his hands and pressed his fingers to the sides of the Cube.

He pulled it out of Loki's control. Loki, fighting for breath, stared at him. Odin held the tesseract lightly for another moment—

He let it drop from his hands. It hit the floor.

And then Odin threw his arms around Loki.

Loki's heartbeat raged and split—a stunned sob escaped him. Odin pressed his hand to Loki's hair and took a hard fistful of his cape.

"Oh, my boy. My sweet boy," Odin wept. He withdrew and took Loki's head in his weathered hands, then pressed a kiss to his pale brow.

Tears spilled down Loki's face, and his whole chest choked violently. He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, shame drowning him. But Odin held him firm and again pressed his lips to the top of Loki's head.

"Oh, Loki! Of _course _I will help her!" Odin cried roughly, shaking him. "If you will first forgive _me_ for not making certain that you knew…" He grasped Loki's neck. "That you _knew…_how _dearly_ I love you."

Loki's tears suffocated him. He tried to shake his head.

"I've…I've done nothing to deserve that from you," he gasped.

"Oh, my son," Odin wiped away Loki's tears with his thumbs. "You do not have to _do _anything!"

Loki broke down. He collapsed into his father's embrace—and his armor unconjured, rattling as it disappeared—until he could feel his father's warmth and his heartbeat against his own. He wrapped his arms around his father's chest as hard as Odin embraced Loki's neck, and Loki clung to him for a long time, his eyes closed, his tears streaming.

Finally, Odin pulled back and wiped more of Loki's tears away. And Loki let himself lift his eyes and look into his father's deep, blue gaze.

Odin smiled at him, deepening all the wrinkles around his eyes and warming his entire countenance. Loki's heart swelled, he let out a watery laugh and pressed his hand to his own face, dashing away the tears. Odin slapped Loki's shoulder.

"Come. There's no time to be wasted," Odin turned him and ushered him toward the door. "Let's go tend to your lady."

LLLL

Thor raced through the hallways, lit by young morning light, pulling a clean tunic on as he went. He had barely paused long enough to throw on day trousers and boots before he flew out of his room. His side still hurt, but the pain was fading.

That was how he had known.

He had known it before the messenger had finished his sentence—had realized what had happened before the poor boy had a chance to speak.

Loki was back in Asgard.

And he had brought Jane.

Thor swung around a corner, pushing off a pillar to stay on course—

And collided with Sif. She wore her dark brown training clothes and her hair was bound up—she had just come in from her morning exercises. Thor grabbed her shoulders and she grabbed him to keep from falling.

"Thor! What—What's wrong?" she gasped.

"I have to go to the healing rooms," he said in a rush, stepping around her. "Loki is back, and he has brought Jane—she is wounded."

Thor glimpsed Sif's stunned expression for just a second before he broke into a run again, leaving her behind.

In minutes, he came racing down the wide, white corridor, and made himself slow down and stop in front of the decorative golden doors.

He pulled in three deep breaths, then put out his hand and worked the brass handle. The door swung silently open, and he stepped inside.

A warm, soothing breeze greeted him, carrying the scent of rose water. He halted by a pillar in the shadows and cast his gaze around the circular room.

All of the beds stood in perfect order, white and pristine and empty. Except the far bed.

The eleven healing women, like ministering angels, all stood silently at the foot of it, their graceful hands clasped in front of them. The fiery-headed Eir, the master healer, watched from the other side of the bed.

All this, Thor took in peripherally—for his eyes fastened first on the woman in the bed. The woman lying there peacefully, as if asleep: Jane Foster.

Thor's eyes traced Jane's breathtakingly beautiful, pale, still face—her long eyelashes, soft features, graceful nose and mouth. She was kept decent by soft white blankets, but her arms and shoulders were bare, and her belly was exposed. Her belly, which gleamed with blood.

Odin sat on the mattress near Jane's right hand, still wearing his flowing night clothes. His rugged hand rested on her abdomen, in the midst of her wounds, his eye was closed, and his white head interrupted the sunlight that streamed in, giving him a shimmering halo.

Thor could not move or swallow or even blink. It was not until his father moved—glanced up and past Eir—that Thor realized there was one more person in the room.

A tall, lean form waited in the shadows exactly opposite Thor, stood near a pillar. His face looked white, dotted with bruises; his black hair was mussed, his emerald eyes stark—and his dark clothes and pale hands were covered in blood.

It was Loki.

And he was looking down at Jane. Looking at her with an unwavering, bright, intense gaze, deep lines of tension between his raven eyebrows.

He was looking at her in a way Thor had never seen before. As if he…

Odin reached out his left hand, palm up. One of the healers stepped up and handed him a clean, wet rag. Odin moved his right hand and began wiping away the blood from Jane's skin…

To reveal a smooth, uninjured surface beneath.

And just then, Jane took a deep, steady breath, and sighed.

Loki let out a breath. It rattled—Thor could hear it.

And then…

Loki saw him. He blinked. Thor stood up straight.

Neither of them moved.

Then, Loki swallowed, inclined his head to him—and stepped back. As if giving way to him. As if he had merely been standing in Thor's stead until he returned.

Loki turned, clasped his hands together for a moment, then ducked his head and strode silently out. No one watched him leave but Thor. A door shut behind him.

Thor's knees went weak, and he leaned against a pillar. He tried, but he found himself suddenly unable to think of anything to say, or find the strength to draw any nearer to the bed.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	21. Chapter 21

_Wow, the response to the last chapter overwhelmed me. _

_Do it again! :D Thank you so much, and enjoy!_

_(the poem/song in this section is called Norse Lullaby by Eugene Field)_

_VVVV_

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Thor sat on the bench with his arms braced on the long table, staring unseeing at the plate of bread, cheese and fruit in front of him. The great, golden dining hall, lit by indirect, restful, late afternoon sun, sat empty and silent. Once in a while, Thor would hear the distant steps of courtiers passing through the adjoining marble halls. But few of them spoke, and nothing interrupted his thoughts.

Until a quiet presence entered from the left and sat down in the broad chair the end of the table, and began filling a plate with the foods that waited in the bowls. Thor lifted his head and took a breath, and glanced to his left at his father. Odin was dressed now, in white, gold and black, and he carefully chose which slices of bread and pieces of fruit he wanted for his meal. The gold plate rang softly each time his father set something on it. Thor cleared his throat. Odin glanced up and gave him a smile.

"She's doing very well," Odin said, as if Thor had spoken. "Sleeping peacefully. She will need to rest for several days, though."

"Why?" Thor wondered. "Were you not able to cure her completely?"

"Of course I was," Odin replied, putting butter on his bread. "But she is mortal, and she lost a great deal of blood."

Thor swallowed, watching him, unable to find the appetite to eat as well.

"Strange wounds," Odin went on. "I'd never seen the like before. Two pieces of metal had been driven right into her—almost through her—making small but devastating holes in all her vitals." He shook his head. "I am astonished she was alive when she came. But Eir tells me that Loki's talisman had something to do with that."

"His talisman?" Thor frowned. Odin glanced up at him.

"You remember those magic stones he gave each of us one feast day—the ones he had made himself?"

Thor thought a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. I keep mine in a chest in my room. It seemed very fragile—I did not want to break it."

"Mm," Odin said, taking a bite of bread. "Apparently, he gave one to Jane, and she hung it around her neck. Its magic sustained her, even while her body was failing."

Thor said nothing for a long while. Then, he stared down at his plate, his jaw tight.

"Where is Loki?"

"He is here. Somewhere," Odin replied. "Though he hasn't touched his quarters. My guess is that he is out on the grounds, perhaps near the fountains. Your mother is looking for him." Odin began to cut up a peach. "She is determined to find him and get him to eat something—and also let her tend him. He is hurt, as you know."

Thor nodded, still studying his plate, ignoring the slight twinge in his chest.

"So…that is it, then?" Thor said.

"What do you mean?"

"With Loki," Thor clarified. "He comes home, gives you some lost relic and brings a mortal woman for you to heal that _he _put in harm's way, and everyone is going to simply act as if nothing happened?"

Odin stopped what he was doing. Thor lifted his face and looked back at his father. Odin gazed at him seriously. Thor gritted his teeth.

"You may be angry with me if you wish," Thor said. "But I am speaking my mind."

"I am not angry with you," Odin said frankly. "You simply don't understand."

Thor shoved his plate away and turned his shoulder to the food.

"You are free to feel as you do—I do not fault you," Odin said. "But let me tell you what I know, so that your anger does not lead to quick judgment and reckless condemnation."

Thor stopped. The memory of chains slithering over wet stone caught him in the breastbone. He looked up at his father and waited. Odin held there for a moment, then began.

"First, let me tell you about this lost relic. It is a tesseract of immeasurable power—if one has the control and the willpower, one can change the very fabric of the universe. One could wish someone out of existence, or reorder the planets, or change the pathways of the galaxy. It had fallen into the hands of a Midgardian who manipulated magic for wicked and selfish gain. Loki and Jane went to retrieve it—for Jane doubtlessly feared what would happen to her realm should such a man possess such a weapon."

Thor nodded.

"Yes, that sounds like her," he admitted.

"From what I saw with Heimdall's help," Odin went on, folding his hands on the table. "This Midgardian sorcerer had lured Loki and Jane into a network of caverns, hoping to strike a bargain with Loki: he would give Loki vengeance upon Asgard, in exchange for control over all the other realms."

Thor stared at his father, hardly breathing. Odin shook his head.

"Loki refused. And so this sorcerer wounded Jane."

Thor blinked.

"Why would he do _that_?" Thor wondered. "Why would he not try to kill Loki?"

"Because the sorcerer needed a pathway to Asgard," Odin explained. "And because Loki can travel without a gate, he could show the way."

Thor said nothing, searching his father's face, trying to understand.

"He…This sorcerer…was trying to bend Loki to his will by hurting _Jane?_"

Odin nodded.

"He said he would let her live if Loki showed him the way to Asgard and let him conquer it. But again…" Odin's voice lowered. "Loki refused."

Thor took a shivering breath, then glanced away, filling with tangled rage.

"Of course he would. No matter what has happened here, Asgard is still his home—and one he wanted to rule. Jane is nothing more to him than a mortal he used to try to get to the tesseract."

"Oh, my son," Odin murmured, shaking his head. "You did not see him."

Thor turned back to him, his anger snagging as confusion took its place.

"I don't understand."

"I don't either—not entirely," Odin confessed. "That is something you will have to ask him about."

Thor wanted to growl in his throat. He turned around and leaned back against the edge of the table, folding his arms.

"So…He destroyed this sorcerer?" he muttered.

"I do not know," Odin said. "I know that Loki paralyzed him with the frost giants' ice-casket, and penetrated the tesseract's shield with his hand—which caused the mountain to collapse. Loki was able to take the tesseract and vanish it without touching it, and then transport himself and Jane out of there and to the edge of the Asbru bridge."

Thor frowned harder.

"You said that the tesseract could reorder _planets_," he reminded his father. "Why could he not heal her with it?"

"Your brother was very wise in that regard," Odin turned back to his fruit.

"_Wise?"_ Thor snorted.

"Indeed," Odin said. "The tesseract is not to be trifled with. Something that powerful should never be used in haste, no matter the cause. It could easily have torn him limb from limb, or broken the mountain in two, or sent him forward in time. Or killed Jane. He did not trust his control, his abilities, enough to risk any of that. Instead, he chose to bring her here, to a place where he had been disgraced, trusting us to save her." Odin grew quiet. "Which was very humble of him."

Thor did not reply. His heart churned as he stared out in front of him, processing his father's words.

"Think on all of that for a while, if you would," Odin advised. "As for me, I am content. My son was dead—and he is alive again."

Thor glanced at his father—and paused, truly studying him. And he saw something glimmering in his eye that he had not seen in a very long time. And it broke the rage in Thor's chest, leaving heavy bewilderment behind—bewilderment that would take a long while to sort out.

Thor nodded, saying nothing, and got up without eating, deciding to go back to the healing rooms to see how Jane fared.

LLLLL

Loki blinked slowly as the firelight flickered against his eyes. He gazed at the flames that danced and crackled in the broad stone fireplace before him. They lit half the room, but it was a great sleeping chamber bedecked in red and gold, and so most of it remained dark. He sat on a plush couch, leaning back on the arm rest, his legs stretched out before him, closer to the fire. He wore trousers and a loose white shirt, for he had doffed his blood-stained formal garb hours ago. He felt tired, and his bones ached. But he had bathed in hot water, he was clean, he had eaten, the couch was soft, and the fire was warm. And Jane was alive.

His mother, in her long, soft white gown and glittering necklace, her golden hair halfway bound up, moved quietly out of the back shadows and moved toward the fire. Loki's eyes followed her, drowsily studying her form as she hummed to herself and took three vials down from the mantle. She sat in a wide chair opposite him, put a wooden bowl in her lap, and poured the oils from the vials into the bowls. Loki drew in a breath—they smelled of earthy spices. Frigg glanced up at him.

"All right, can you take your shirt off?"

Loki sighed, leaned forward with a wince, and pulled at the back of his shirt. He mostly succeeded in removing it, though the screaming pain in his side made him want to curse—but then Frigg was there helping him off with it, and folding it and draping it over the back of the couch. Then, she turned to look at him—and firelight glittered across her dress, reflected by his Mjollnir necklace. She frowned.

"What is that?"

Loki reached up and halfheartedly tugged at the metal.

"It is the necklace Thor gave me," he muttered. "After he nearly ripped my arm off. Remember?"

Frigg watched him.

"And you've kept it on?"

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, knowing what she meant.

"I can't take it off," he said, pulling on it again. "I've tried, till I've drawn blood. But it will _not _come off."

"Magic?" Frigg guessed, going back to the chair and picking up the bowl of salve. Loki sighed, still fingering the pendant, his gaze unfocusing.

"It must be," he said. "But it is a most irritating, stubborn, persistent magic, hanging onto me even when I don't need it or want it. It must be something simple, something elemental…" his voice quieted as he thought. "Yet it's too complicated to find an easy way out of."

Frigg nudged him, urging him to scoot forward, and she sat behind him on the couch.

"You said it was your brother who gave it to you?" she asked.

"Yes," Loki answered, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well, then it must be love," Frigg concluded.

Loki stopped breathing.

Frigg was silent a while as she swished the oils together in the bowl.

"I've heard that such things can also act as beacons between the giver and the bearer, if either of them wishes it," she went on lightly. "It's very old magic, and doesn't require any specific spells. It happens almost by accident. I've never actually heard of it happening—just in legends. But it would explain why Thor was in a great deal of pain while you were fighting last night."

"He was?" Loki whispered, turning his head so he could halfway see his mother behind him.

"Mm," Frigg answered, dipping her fingers in the bowl. "It would also explain your remarkable stone—why you said you could feel little Jane's injuries, and why you could find her in the dark by its light, as you said—and how she was able to stay alive." Frigg lightly flicked the latch on his Mjollnir necklace. It jingled. "This one may have even protected you when you fell to Midgard. Your neck might have broken otherwise."

Loki could not speak. His mind spun.

Then, it snapped away from thinking about that as he sucked in his breath—Frigg had begun to massage the deep bruise in his right side.

"You said you hurt this place before?" Frigg asked, rubbing the oils into his skin.

"Yes," he said tightly. "When I hit the ground on Midgard. I thought I'd healed it, but…I suppose I wasn't quite battle-worthy yet."

"You never have healed easily," Frigg remembered. Her soft, warm hand rubbed back and forth, back and forth, strong but gentle—and as she kneaded the oils into him, his pain began to ease, his muscles relaxed—and the scent made him sleepy. His eyes drifted shut.

As she worked, Frigg started to hum. Loki took deep, slow breaths, leaning his shoulder against the back of the couch as she rubbed, rubbed, paused to wet her fingers, and came back again. Then, she took a breath, and softly sang.

"_The sky is dark and the hills are white  
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;  
And this is the song the storm-king sings,  
As over the world his cloak he flings:  
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;'  
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:  
'Sleep, little one, sleep."'_

Loki's entire right side loosened, releasing the tension that had been there for he did not know how long. Perhaps years. Frigg dipped her fingers again, then rubbed deeper.

"_On yonder mountain-side a vine  
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;  
The tree bends over the trembling thing,  
And only the vine can hear her sing:  
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
What shall you fear when I am here?  
Sleep, little one, sleep.' _

_The king may sing in his bitter flight,  
The pine may croon to the vine to-night,  
But the little snowflake at my breast  
Liketh the song _I_ sing the best, -  
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
Weary thou art, anext my heart;  
Sleep, little one, sleep.'"_

Loki, eyes still closed, smirked bitterly.

"Little snowflake," he muttered, the irony of that galling his throat.

"_Yes_," Frigg said firmly, and kissed the back of his head. "_My _little snowflake."

The bitterness in Loki's smile faded, and he sighed, letting her massage dull the pain, listening to her soothing hum as the fire crackled and danced beneath the arching stone.

LLLLL

Dull light flickered against Jane's eyelids. But they stayed closed, for her entire body felt heavy, tired—distant. She drew in a deep breath and almost swallowed. The light grew brighter, the flickering more distinct. As if a curtain rustling in the wind interrupted the sunlight coming through a window.

Very slowly, she became aware of her face, and then her head—it rested on something soft and plush. Then her shoulders, arms, midsection and legs—they were nestled in a deep, warm surface, and wrapped snugly in comfort.

She opened her eyes. Just a very little bit. Enough to see white—white lit up by sunlight. And she could see her own shoulder, and a sleeve. A light blue, short sleeve.

Then, she realized that her right hand was enclosed in a set of fingers. Strong fingers, in a gentle hold.

"Dad?" she tried, but her lips barely moved. Her brow furrowed and she swallowed again. No, that wasn't right. And this hand had calluses. Which meant it wasn't Erik either…

"Fen…" she attempted, still confused, but she couldn't finish. She moved her hand, trying to feel the other surfaces of his palm.

The hand moved. It gripped her fingers. Her eyes came open, and she drew in a deep, sudden breath.

For a moment, everything was blurry. And then—all at once—she focused.

On a helmet. A helmet sitting on the night table just to her left. Its angular metal surface glittered in the morning light that streamed in from a wide balcony behind it, and its majestic horns arched up over the top of it—gleaming horns marred by bloody handprints. The fingers of her left hand closed around her white covers and her heart began to hammer.

"Where is he?" she croaked. "Where…Where is…" She trailed off as she turned her head to her right. And then her lips parted, she stared, and she couldn't speak for a long time. Finally, when she did speak, she could only say one name.

"Thor?"

She shakily pulled her hand free of his and reached up to touch him—and _yes_, her hand met the soft skin of his strong, brilliantly-smiling face. His golden head was lit up in the sun, and his bright blue eyes sparkled at her. Her fingertips trailed through his beard, and he reached up and pressed her hand to his cheek. He wore a deep red tunic and black trousers, and his blonde hair fell around his shoulders.

"Good morning, Jane," he said—and his voice was immediate and clear and deep and tender. Nothing at all like a dream.

He was here. Right here.

Tears brimmed up in her eyes, and she blinked. He scooted closer to her, lowered her hand and held it in both of his on the mattress, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Jane glanced upward, to see a grand, arching stone ceiling above her.

"Where am I?" she murmured, then looked back to Thor.

"You're…" He shook his head and chuckled. "You're in Asgard."

Jane didn't speak for a long time. Her left hand uneasily worked the bit of quilt between her fingers.

"How?" she finally whispered, glancing all around at the other empty beds, the fountain, then back to Thor. His smile faded somewhat.

"You were hurt. Badly."

"I was?" Jane murmured, her brow tensing as she tried to clear the haze in her mind and make sense of the flashes of memory that were starting to dart across her consciousness.

"Yes," Thor nodded. "Father says you were underneath a mountain, with a sorcerer. You were looking for the tesseract." He paused. "You were with Loki—"

Jane sucked in a sudden, wrenching breath. Tears spilled down her face.

"I got shot!" she cried, clamping down on Thor's hand with all her force, her whole body going stiff. Thor quickly leaned closer, and she clawed at his hands and his wrists, but her eyes saw nothing.

"I got shot!" she choked. "The man in the mask pointed a gun and shot at me, and I…I fell down on the floor, and he…and he…" Her eyes rested on the helmet, and she suddenly couldn't look away from it. Tears poured down her face, and her speech shook with sobs. "He came down next to me and told me to breathe…He told me he needed me to breathe but I _couldn't_…And he promised he could fix it…" Jane screwed her eyes shut, her chest strangling. She couldn't inhale. She felt Thor move even closer, and she grabbed the front of his shirt. He took her head in his hands.

"Jane," he said steadily. "Jane, look at me. Jane, look."

Jane forced herself to take deeper breaths, even though she was trembling and weak all over, and at last she opened her eyes. Tears fell from her eyelashes, but she looked up into Thor's calm eyes. His face was very close to hers. He raised his eyebrows.

"You are safe now," he said slowly. "My father was able to heal you, and you are going to be fine. Understand?"

She gasped a few times, and swallowed, but managed to nod. Thor rubbed her tears away with his thumbs. She glanced over at the helmet again.

"How…How did I get here?" Her lips quivered.

Thor sighed.

"Loki brought you."

"Loki…" Jane mouthed. Thor nodded.

"Yes. Gave up the tesseract in exchange for Father healing you. Though I'm sure Father would have done it, regardless."

Jane turned back to look at Thor, her mind in a hurricane. More tears poured down her face, and she feebly reached up and slid her arms around his neck.

He leaned in and slipped his arms around her, enveloping her in warmth and strength. She pulled him to her as tight as she could…

But even through the cloud of her tears, all she could see was that abandoned helmet, and the prints those familiar hands had made with her blood.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	22. Chapter 22

_Reviewers…you lovely people are the soul that animates the bones and flesh of this story. I hope you know that. Without you, I may have abandoned this enterprise long ago. So thank you, and enjoy._

_(for the _first_ section of this chapter, I listened to the Thor Soundtrack: Science and Magic. It's gorgeous and soft and sad. And if you haven't listened to the track "Can You See Jane?" you MUST.)_

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"_He is my most beloved friend and my bitterest rival,_

_My confidant and my betrayer,_

_My sustainer and my dependant,_

_And scariest of all,_

_My equal."_

Gregg Levoy

Thor strode barefoot through the silent halls, counting the torches that hung from iron sconces. It was past midnight, on the third night since Loki had brought Jane to Asgard. The first night, Thor had sat by Jane's bedside the whole time. He had come to visit her often during the day, but she had mostly slept—Eir had given her a sleeping draft to calm her after being so agitated. And the second night, Thor had returned to his own room, convinced Jane was in good hands. But all the things that his father had told him about Loki prevented him from sleeping.

During the second day, Thor had called in on Jane and again found her resting, but Eir said she was doing very well. So Thor had gone outside with the Warriors Three and done weapons training—though Sif declined joining them on account of a headache, which Thor thought was strange. Even stranger: he had not seen Loki _at all _since that first morning when he arrived, though this evening, both parents had insisted to Thor that he was still in Asgard.

Tonight, Thor still could not sleep. He had tried, and succeeded fitfully for a while. He just did not feel tired. So, finally, he had gotten up, thrown a long maroon robe over his loose white nightclothes, and swept out into the hall. He did not know where he was going on this long, quiet walk—but eventually he decided he would end up in the healing rooms to check in on Jane once more. Having a destination checked his restlessness, and he knew that if he walked all the way there and all the way back, he had a better chance of sleeping comfortably.

He turned several corners, passing half a dozen tall, open balconies where the night wind wandered in, brushing through his hair and the hems of his clothes. Finally, he arrived at the healing room doors, carved with a design of the World Tree—and stopped.

The left hand door hung slightly ajar.

Thor frowned. Eir never did that. She always closed the door to make certain none of her patients were disturbed by passing noise…

Very slowly, Thor pulled the door toward himself. The wood felt cool in his hand. The hinges stayed silent. He slipped inside, and hid in the deep shadows. He neared a wide pillar, his eyes searching the mostly-dark room—and his footsteps faltered. He halted behind the pillar, concealed, his eyes focusing on the other end of the room. And what he saw made his breath slow down, and hold.

Jane lay on her back, a small candelabra standing on this side of the bed, behind her head. It cast a soft glow over all of her, softening her features. She was draped in perfect white linens, and her smooth, brown, brushed hair hung over her right shoulder and draped over her chest. She had healthy color in her cheeks and lips now, and she breathed deeply, evenly, and her eyes did not move beneath her eyelids. She was deeply asleep.

And at the foot of her bed, like a waiting shadow, stood Loki.

He wore clothes as black as night—a tunic whose sleeves came down to near the middle of his hands, a high collar; a long, sleeveless coat that hung down to the back of his knees, black trousers and soft-soled boots.

His elbows were bent, his hands loosely clasped, his left hand thumb pressed to the palm of his right hand. His unguarded eyes—lit by the flames—watched Jane.

For a very long time, Thor just stood there, transfixed, wondering what—if anything—he should do. For Loki was looking at her that way again. The way he had while Odin was healing her. Almost as if he…

Very slowly, Loki stepped around the bed, and eased down to sit on the mattress near Jane's knees. His body angled toward her, but he did not touch her. He turned his head, and ran his gaze over her whole form, as if memorizing the shape of her.

Jane took a deep breath—deeper than usual—and her brow tightened. Loki's attention flew to her face. She shifted slightly, tilting her face toward the light…

All of Loki's features softened. He swallowed, and reflexively edged closer to her, his own brow tensing. But then his eyes flashed, he sucked in a breath and he retreated the same distance he had come.

Jane's forehead relaxed.

Long stillness and silence reigned, and Jane regained that perfectly-peaceful look she had before.

Loki glanced down at her graceful right hand, which lay on the sheet. For several moments, he studied it in the flicker of the candlelight.

Then, he stretched out his pale fingers and lightly touched the back of her thumb. His fingertips moved, very slowly, over her smooth skin, until he reached the end of her hand. He withdrew. And when he lifted his eyes to her face again, such a deep, penetrating ache marked his bright eyes that Thor _felt _it.

Loki stood up.

He turned away from her, his head lowered. His hands flexed open and closed, then clenched into fists. His gaze rapidly searched the floor, as if he was looking for something he had lost, and his brow twisted. Then, he turned and swept out the back door of the room without making a single sound.

Thor strode into the center of the room, staring after him. He stopped, and glanced down at sleeping Jane. But an invisible hook had lodged inside his chest, and now it pulled on him—and he had to obey. He stepped around the bed, lengthened his strides, and followed Loki.

LLLLLLL

Thor traced Loki's steps through the shadowed hallways, down spiral staircases, his hand sliding on the wall to guide him. He tried to keep his feet quiet, but he had to walk quickly—Loki had always moved easily and swiftly in the dark, and Thor feared to lose him.

Finally, he came to a short door that led to the grounds. He hesitated, then pulled it open and stepped out.

He glanced around. He had entered a garden—one of the walled gardens only meant for the royal family. Vines formed an arch overhead, and beyond it, the winding dirt pathways and tangled rosebushes were lit by the bluish-silver of the full moonlight. Thor strode out, following the flicker of a shadow to his left.

He hurried down several narrow, meandering paths as he listened and watched, and the night breeze murmured through the leaves of the pomegranate trees and carried the light scent of laurel and rose. In the distance, he could hear the soft tumble of a waterfall.

He swung around a corner—a stone wall covered in ivy—and halted.

Loki sat in a little moonlit plaza on a black rock. One leg was drawn up, his arm draped over his knee. He sat motionless, and stared at Thor.

"You breathe much too loudly," Loki remarked, his voice low, his eyes fixed on him. "Then again, subterfuge has never been your strong suit."

Thor shifted, his jaw tightening.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Waiting for you to stop following me," Loki said coolly.

"I mean in Asgard," Thor gestured toward the palace—the towering monolith behind him that twinkled with only a handful of lights. Loki's gaze flicked upward, then returned to Thor.

"Jane was injured too badly for my skills to be of any use," Loki replied. "I had to bring her here."

"She's healed now," Thor said. "So why are you still here?"

Loki did not move.

"You want me to leave?"

"No, I want some answers," Thor snapped, stepping toward him. "What were you just doing up in Jane's room?"

"It isn't her room—it's the healing rooms, and they are not exclusive," Loki countered.

"You _know _what I meant," Thor snarled, pointing at him. "I saw you."

Loki's face betrayed nothing. Thor's fists clenched.

"What is it…exactly…" he ventured. "That you feel for her?"

Loki's eyes narrowed.

"Why should I tell you anything?" he asked. "You've already made up your mind."

"It's impossible for me to have made up my mind!" Thor shouted. "I don't understand any of this!"

"You will wake everyone up," Loki muttered.

"I do not care," Thor retorted, stepping toward him again. "What happened to you? I demand to know."

Loki frowned.

"What _happened _to me?"

"Yes!"

Loki's eyes flickered.

"Which time?" he asked.

Thor wanted to scream. He turned aside, took two deep breaths, then faced Loki again.

"All right, let us start at the beginning, shall we?"

Loki raised his eyebrows.

"The Great Beginning?"

"You're not clever," Thor barked. "No—the _beginning_. When you started acting like someone I don't know."

Loki waited for a moment.

"When are you assuming that was?" he asked.

"My coronation day," Thor answered. "_You _let those Frost Giants into the weapons vault, didn't you? _Didn't _you?"

For a long while, Loki did not answer, but Thor held his gaze. At last, Loki nodded.

"I did."

"That's treason!" Thor declared.

"Oh, it is not," Loki sighed, glancing away.

"Then why did you do it?" Thor wanted to know.

"To interrupt your coronation," Loki said, with more force than before. He met Thor's eyes. "Because I wanted Father to see your reaction."

Thor straightened.

"My reaction?"

"Yes—and it was exactly what I feared it would be." Loki put his leg down and folded his arms over his chest. "You offered your usual solution when presented with a problem, delicate or not, which is: 'Why don't we just try hitting it really hard?'"

"And what was your purpose?" Thor pressed. Loki leaned toward him.

"To show Father what an idiot you were," Loki hissed, his eyes flashing. "To illustrate something I had seen for a long time, but he had ignored: you were _not _ready to be king."

Thor paused, watching him.

"Is that why you told me to go to Jotunheim?"

Loki looked at him indignantly.

"I never told you to go to Jotunheim."

"You suggested it."

"No, I didn't."

"You said that you agreed with me—and the only way to do anything about it was to defy Father!" Thor pointed out.

"No," Loki held up a finger. "I said '_but _the only way is to defy Father.'"

"You put the idea into my head!" Thor accused.

"It wasn't very hard, was it?" Loki cried. "Like filling an empty jar with rocks or water or _sawdust_. Really, it was just another test to see if you'd fall for it—and I was genuinely grieved to find it was _that_ easy."

"So you admit that's what you were trying to do," Thor said. Loki rolled his eyes.

"I regretted it the instant I said it. But I knew there would be no dissuading you once you'd decided, and I had to go with you to see that you didn't get yourself killed," He folded his hands and lifted an eyebrow. "I tried to prevent the fight with the giants. But you wouldn't let it go."

"Did you tell Father where we'd gone?" Thor asked, knowing the truth already, but waiting to see what Loki said. Loki took a breath and nodded.

"I did," he admitted, rubbing his palm with his thumb. "And during the entire battle I feared for all our lives, because I couldn't fathom where he was—why he wasn't coming."

Thor lowered his head, watching Loki closely as he switched angles.

"Did you mean for me to be banished?"

"No." Loki stared at the ground, then met Thor's eyes. "No. In fact, I was stunned that Father would do that. To _you_."

Thor was silent a long moment, then nodded once.

"You were right, though."

Loki's head came up. His eyebrows drew together.

"What?"

"You were right," Thor repeated. "About me. That I was not ready to be king."

Loki stared at him as if he had never seen him before. He swallowed, and did not answer. Thor took another step toward him.

"You were right, and Father's punishment was just. It is what happened _after _that which troubles me."

"What do you mean?" Loki asked, eyes flickering.

"You told me Father was dead," Thor stated.

Loki looked away.

"Why did you do that?" Thor demanded. "You stood there, looked me in the face and broke my heart—and for what?"

Loki shifted—and Thor saw something change in his bearing. An aspect he had learned to recognize in an instant: Loki was hiding something.

"I was buying time," Loki replied, avoiding him.

"Time for _what?_" Thor pressed.

"Father was in the Odinsleep and you were banished, which left me in command," Loki answered. "Mother said that Father had laid out a plan for your return. I couldn't have you coming back and taking up the mantle of king so soon—not until I had done what I needed to do."

"_What_?" Thor said impatiently.

"I had to destroy Jotunheim," Loki shot back, finally looking at him. "And kill Laufey."

Thor's brow furrowed.

"Why?"

"Because they are our enemies—they have been for centuries," Loki said. "I saw what Laufey planned to do if he could. I knew, if he ever found the means, he would destroy us all. Starting with Father." Loki shook his head. "I was not going to let that happen."

"So you told me Father was _dead?"_ Thor cried.

"I knew he would awaken," Loki said firmly. "I never doubted that. Never. And I knew that as soon as he did, he would bring you back home and you would learn he was alive."

"And how did you imagine I would feel about that?" Thor asked. Loki glanced away and lifted an eyebrow.

"Relieved?"

Thor weighed his words, studying him. Loki was telling the truth.

_Some _of it.

And the rest, he still hid.

Thor narrowed his eyes.

"So after you had destroyed Jotunheim…what were your plans for Asgard?"

Loki blinked, and frowned at him.

"My plans?"

"Yes—what were you going to do with it, with its people?" Thor clarified. Loki's frown deepened and he shook his head.

"Nothing," he said simply. "Maintain it until Father awakened."

"Then why did the Three and Sif come to find me?" Thor pointed back behind him. "Why did they think Asgard was in danger?"

"I doubt they thought it was in danger," Loki said flatly. "More like they hated its new king."

"_Hated?" _Thor objected. "What do you mean? They didn't hate you!"

"Are you _completely _blind?" Loki scoffed.

"_No_, I am not blind!" Thor answered.

"Then why can't you see it?" Loki cried, standing up and facing him. "Why have you _never _seen it?" He pointed to himself. "I have been hated and despised in this place ever since I was a child."

"That is _not _true," Thor gritted.

"It _is!" _Loki insisted. "All the court became suspicious of me when I started to show more magical talent than the masters when I was a fraction of their age—they wouldn't let their children play with me after I burned Freya—"

"That was an accident," Thor protested.

"And that _matters_?" Loki countered, holding his hands out to the sides. "It didn't matter to _them! _And after that, I would shape-shift to look like you or one of the other boys so I could play with the others until Eir's sister caught me and branded me a two-face and a liar—"

"Loki—"

"And then when Balder…When Balder…" All at once, Loki choked and looked away from Thor, gulping and fighting with his breaths.

The fire in Thor's chest extinguished.

And then pain hollowed him out.

"You sent the Destroyer to Midgard after me."

Loki would not look at him.

"I know you did," Thor told him. "You commanded it to kill me."

"I told it to make sure you did not come back," Loki said hoarsely. "I was in the middle of luring Laufey in to kill him, and I was afraid you would—"

"As the king, you controlled the Destroyer's actions," Thor cut him off. "You broke my neck."

"That was your idea," Loki said unsteadily. "You walked up and asked for it."

"You broke my neck," Thor repeated.

"Father told Mjollnir to return to the hand of someone who was worthy," Loki

protested. "I knew a self-sacrifice like that would restore your power to you—"

"You _broke _my _neck_."

"I'm sorry," Loki said in a rush, as if in surrender. "I'm sorry. I was a hurt dog, and I bit you." He turned away. "I'm so sorry."

Thor gazed at him a very long time. An owl hooted in a nearby tree. The cool breeze rustled through the leaves of the bushes, and the boughs of the oaks all around them.

Suddenly, Thor could not find it in himself to be angry. He had charged out here into these gardens prepared for a fight—perhaps even a physical one—but he had not expected this. He had not expected Loki to be so dislocated, so raw. So resigned.

And still hiding something.

At last, Thor took a careful breath.

"Well…" he said quietly. "_I_ never hated you."

Loki's head tilted toward him, and Thor caught the sheen of tears in his eyes. Thor gave a crooked smile.

"I actually thought your shapeshift into Tyr was fairly clever. I'll never forget the look on his face."

Loki snorted softly and almost smiled, then swallowed and shook his head, his brow tight.

And he waited. Waited for the last heavy question. The one Thor had to have answered—but the one he could do the least about.

"What about her?" Thor asked softly. "What about Jane?"

Loki's brow twitched. His hands closed. He did not look at Thor. Thor summoned a breath and raised his eyebrows.

"You care for her."

Loki swallowed.

"More than my life," he whispered.

Stunned, Thor could not speak for a long time.

"Was that…" he finally managed. "Was that in your plan?"

Loki looked at him—stark and cold.

"Was it in yours?"

Thor shifted his weight, glancing off into the forest. Silence lay heavy between them.

"So…" Loki murmured. "What are you going to do?"

Thor met his eyes. He knew what he meant.

"Why would anything be up to me?" Thor wondered. Loki gestured halfheartedly.

"You loved her first. And she…She loves you."

"She hasn't told me that," Thor said. Loki's face hardened.

"Do not play with me."

"I am not," Thor vowed. "But, aside from Father and Mother, I trust Jane's judgment the most."

Loki hesitated, studying him.

"What are you saying?"

Thor glanced back up at the palace, toward the balcony of the healing rooms.

"She will decide," Thor said.

"She has," Loki murmured. "I never had a chance with her."

Thor turned back and frowned at him.

"Why not?" he asked.

Loki motioned to him.

"Look at yourself! You will be king of Asgard!" he said. "And I…I am…"

"And you are the king of Jotunheim," Thor finished. "We are more than equal."

Loki stood paralyzed. His eyes locked with Thor's. His face went ash white.

And everything Loki had just been trying to hide suddenly bared like bones in the sand, for both of them to see.

The truth.

Loki was a Frost Giant.

He had never been Thor's brother, never Frigg and Odin's son. He had never been an Aesir, never been in line for the throne, never truly part of the royal court.

He was Laufey's son—the son of the enemy. An ice-breathing, savage-living monster that populated stories meant to frighten children.

_That _was why he wanted to kill Laufey. _That _was why he wanted to destroy Jotunheim. He did not want to be a pawn to bring about peace—he did not want to be a trophy brought home from battle.

He wanted to be a son.

A brother.

But he feared he never could.

And there, in Loki's unearthly-green eyes and white face, was written all of that, clear as the sky.

But Thor already knew. Odin had told him months ago.

And so, even as he stood there, Thor's heart stayed strangely quiet.

The battle had already been fought.

It had been fought in the solitude and silence of Thor's own soul, during the sleepless nights and thin, quiet days of Loki's absence—and tonight, this moment, the outcome had finally cleared like fog with the coming of dawn.

All the things Thor had so long raged against no longer mattered.

And for all these centuries, he had neglected the one thing that truly _did_.

With burning eyes, Thor stepped toward Loki. Loki took a step back—

And Thor caught him.

He put his arms around Loki and pulled him near, and entwined his fingers through the back of the chain around Loki's neck. Thor felt Loki go stiff, his breath catching.

"No matter what happens," Thor murmured fervently in his ear. "For as long as the East stands across from the West, you will be my brother."

Loki gasped, and shuddered.

And he lifted his arms and wrapped them tight around Thor's chest, and pressed his face into his brother's warm collar.

"_There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother._

_Oh, how I hated that little boy._

_And how I love him, too."_

–_Anna Quindlan_

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	23. Chapter 23

_Ah, I love happy reviewers. :) And I hope to keep you entertained, in return for your lovely comments! Thank you, and enjoy!_

_VVVV_

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

"_Something always brings me back to you._

_It never takes too long._

_No matter what I say or do,_

_I still feel you here, till the moment I've gone._

_You hold me without touch—_

_You keep me without chains."_

_-Gravity_

Jane drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking in the scent of roses carried by the warm breeze. Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced upward through her lashes at the pale blue sky.

She lay on her back on a cushioned couch on a stretch of grass in the sunshine, in the side grounds of the palace. She wore a loose white cotton gown, and a thin floral blanket with ruffled edges draped over her legs. A pillow propped up her head, and the servants had staked a tall, cloth umbrella into the ground just behind her, so that it shaded her upper body.

Going outside today had been Eir's idea. Ever since she had woken up to Thor sitting by her bed, Jane had felt as if a gray cloud hung over her, and she couldn't quite get rid of it. But Eir had finally declared that attitude unacceptable, and had ordered that Jane be bundled out of doors.

It was the perfect temperature out here on the lawn, and the birds twittered and chirped and fluttered through the yellow-blooming gorse row on Jane's right. She could not see the towers of the palace, because the umbrella obstructed them, but off to her left, she had a full view.

Her couch rested on the top of a gently-sloping hill, and a winding, descending path marked that hillside, and low-growing, blooming pink flowers bordered the path. At the end of the path stood a stone wall that meandered on out of sight in both directions, parallel to her—and beyond that stretched a great wide, sunlit green field crowded with wooden and metal training engines, and racks of weapons.

Jane sighed again and turned to look there, reaching up and sliding her right hand under her head and resting her elbow against the back of the couch.

Thor was out there, shirtless and wearing rugged trousers and boots. He was with Fandral, a strikingly-handsome young man with hair shorter, but just as golden, as Thor's. Fandral wasn't wearing a shirt either. The two of them circled, each holding broadswords in their hands, watching each other closely.

They lunged, their arms and backs rippling, and the swords clanged and hissed as they tangled. Thor and Fandral roared and laughed and taunted each other as they sparred, and they whirled and clashed faster than lightning.

Sif had come out, too. She stood off to the side, garbed in black, and fitted leather. Her hair was bound up close to her head. She faced the weapons rack with folded arms, and stared up and down at first an axe, then a sword, then a mace, then a club.

Jane's gaze wandered, trailing back toward the sky ahead of her, in the far distance. Her brow furrowed. She could almost swear that she could see the ocean on the edge of the horizon—and maybe one or two stars. The sky was certainly darker, there.

She wished it was night. Then, she would move the umbrella, and gaze straight up into the cool, limitless sky, and finally be able to see the spectacular Asgardian constellations—the ones Fenris had told her about…

She stopped.

The cloud in her heart darkened.

"Sif!"

Jane twitched, and she turned her face toward the sound of Thor's bellow. He and Fandral had paused, panting and covered with sweat. Thor beckoned to Sif with a gloved hand.

"Come on already," he urged. "You've had time enough to choose a weapon."

Sif didn't answer. She just snatched a long, wicked-looking sword off the rack, spun and strode toward him.

"Oooh," Fandral said, backing up and eyeing her. "Enjoy yourself, Thor. I'm…going to get a drink of water." And he turned on his heel and headed toward the large water barrels.

Thor grinned at Sif. She glared at him. He raised his weapon—

And she jumped at him faster than Jane could track.

They struck each other with titanic force.

For several minutes, the two of them struggled and danced, their swords singing, as they spun and dodged with expert rhythm, their movements so precise that if they missed by a hair, either of them would receive a deadly blow.

Then something happened.

Sif faltered. One of her blocks was too weak, and then her heel caught on the grass—

Thor couldn't stop his swing in time—he hit her in the face with the butt of his sword.

She crashed to the ground.

"Sif!" Thor yelped, dropping his sword and falling to his knees beside her. He took hold of her shoulders, leaning down to try and see her face.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, so Jane barely heard her. She sat up, wincing. Thor would not relent. He pulled off his gloves and cradled her face with both hands, earnestly studying the welt he had just made on her cheekbone.

"I am so sorry," he told her.

"It's not your fault—it's mine," she said, not looking at him, trying to pull away. He let go of her face but took hold of her arms.

"Sif, wait," Thor protested.

"I'm fine!" she snapped.

"Are you angry with me?" Thor asked.

Sif paused, then finally met his eyes. They looked at each other for a moment.

"No," she finally stated. "I'm angry at myself."

She twisted out of his grasp and stumbled to her feet, marching toward the wall and the path that led up to where Jane was. Thor stood up and watched her go.

Jane's hand closed around the blanket, and her brow tightened. Sif climbed the hill, head down, and almost stormed right past her.

"Lady Sif?" Jane called.

Sif jerked to a stop and turned to look at Jane, as if she hadn't realized she was there. "Do you remember me?" Jane asked, managing to halfway sit up—though the movement felt like it was tearing her stomach muscles in half. Sif's frown deepened.

"Of course I remember you," she answered. "You are the mortal Thor spent three days with during his banishment on Midgard."

"Ha…" Jane smiled, succeeding in sitting up a little more. "Was it only three days? Seemed like longer than that."

"I've heard that a mortal's perception of time is different than an Aesir's," Sif answered flatly. Jane watched her for a moment, glancing over her bright eyes and angular face. Her face that bore a deepening bruise.

"Do you want to sit down and rest?" Jane asked, gesturing to the end of the couch. "I haven't really seen anybody all day—it would be nice to have some company."

Sif hesitated, then glanced down at the end of the couch.

"Just for a little bit," Jane added. "I know you have things to do."

Sif stood there stiffly for a long while. Then, all of a sudden, she sighed, turned and sat down on the armrest, facing the sparring green. She tucked both feet up on the couch near Jane's and looked out over the field.

Jane paused, and took that moment of quiet to really _look _at Sif—she'd never had the opportunity before.

She looked fierce, forbidding. She was tall, she had pulled her hair up into a severe fashion, the clothes she wore were utilitarian and no-nonsense, and her expression and posture stayed hard.

On the other hand, she had a strong, graceful form, perfectly-proportioned features, long eyelashes, a comely mouth, brilliant eyes and a flawless complexion. If she would let herself be, Sif was beautiful.

But there was nothing soft about her—nothing inviting. It was like she had put up a shield, and not even a physical injury could penetrate it.

"I'm sorry you got hit in the face," Jane ventured, breaking the silence. "Are you all right?"

"It's happened before. Often," Sif answered. Jane glanced out to see that Thor and Fandral had begun to spar again. The clang of their weapons rang through the morning.

"You seem very good at it, though," Jane observed.

"Thor and I have been practicing that routine for a thousand years," Sif said, still watching the men. "I don't know what's wrong with me today." She looked down and flicked a piece of grass off her trouser leg. "I was fine earlier—even with Loki out here."

Something thudded against Jane's chest. Her mind stopped working.

"Loki?" Jane finally managed. "He was here?"

It was Sif's turn to scrutinize Jane. Her piercing gaze went right through her.

"You just turned white," she said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jane rasped, shaking her head and looking down.

Sif paused.

"Are you afraid of him?"

Jane's chest locked. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but all she could do was shake her head.

"He certainly came in with a great deal of your blood all over him…" Sif remembered pointedly.

"No," Jane finally choked out. "No, he didn't do that to me."

Jane could feel Sif's curiosity like a literal pressure, but Jane's eyes wouldn't even focus.

"What…What was he doing out here?" Jane finally asked.

Sif shrugged.

"Sparring. With Fandral, Hogun, Volstaag, Thor and me." Sif faced the green and adjusted so she could lean back against the couch.

"And…What happened?" Jane ventured. "When Loki came, I mean."

Sif took a deep, tight breath. Two birds flitted by overhead, and Sif glanced up and watched them pass.

"The second he and Thor walked up to us," Sif began. "Thor stood us in a line and told us that Loki had returned, that was the end of it—and if we didn't treat him like the prince that he is, Thor would pound us into little pieces of sand." Sif arched an eyebrow. "There's not much to say to that."

Jane slowly sat up even further, hardly believing what she was hearing.

"You mean…You mean Thor forgave him?"

"Apparently," Sif muttered. "Though when _that_ happened, I don't know. Must have been last night some time, because yesterday they still weren't speaking, and Loki was skulking around in the corners like he was afraid of getting speared." Sif rolled up her cuffs. "But today they both acted as if nothing happened."

Jane's pulse hammered in her ears as bafflement spun through her head. She sat up all the way, pressing her hand to her abdomen.

"Did Thor give you any reasons?" she asked. "Did he tell you what they talked about?"

Sif shook her head.

"No. He isn't talkative about things like that," she admitted. She glanced down. "I have one, very personal reason for disliking Loki. But of anyone in all the realms, Loki wronged Thor the deepest. So if Thor can forgive him…" Sif's jaw tightened. "Then I have to try."

"You do?" Jane whispered, baffled.

"Yes," Sif said sharply, glancing at her. "Thor is my prince, and I…And he is my friend. I trust him with my life. So I trust him with this."

Sif didn't say anything more. But her eyes had blazed for a second—which made Jane stop.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, and Jane's brow furrowed as she studied Sif's profile. But before she could think of the right question to ask, Sif ducked her head and squeezed her hands together.

"So," she lifted her chin, and her voice gained an edge. "Are we soon to be hearing wedding bells and getting out the bridal crown? Or do I have a few days yet to have a new gown made?"

Jane's thoughts lurched to a halt. Her mouth fell open.

"What?"

Sif turned her penetrating gaze on Jane again.

"You _are _marrying him, aren't you?" she asked. "You're marrying Thor."

Jane stared at her. It suddenly felt like Sif was speaking a foreign language.

"_Marrying_…?"

Sif frowned.

"Everyone knows," she said. "You do not have to hide it."

"How can everyone know?" Jane protested. "He hasn't even proposed to me—"

"Does he have to?" Sif said indignantly. Then her gaze darted all over Jane's features. "And why are youso red in the face now?" She canted her head and narrowed her eyes. Her voice quieted. "Do you object to marrying Thor?"

"No," Jane said, though she felt out of breath. "I just…I haven't really thought about it."

"You haven't?"

Jane gazed back at the warrior woman for a long while, though she desperately wanted to look away. Sif's scrutiny was unbearable.

"No, I haven't," Jane finally confessed.

Fandral barked something in another language. Both women blinked and turned to see. Fandral had dropped his sword and was holding onto his right wrist. Thor was laughing, and came up to him to clap him on the shoulder. Sif took a breath.

"You're running out of time, you know."

"What?" Jane said, turning her attention back to Sif.

"There's an Asgardian law about this. I'm surprised Thor hasn't told you," Sif said, folding her arms over her chest. "No mortal can stay in Asgard longer than a fortnight. And the _only _way he or she can become an Aesir, and stay here _forever_, is by being bound in marriage to an Aesir."

Jane's heart pounded, and she stared unseeingly down at her blanket.

"Oh…" she whispered, lightheaded. For a long time, she did not move or speak.

"You're fighting like a girl!" Thor's mockery shook Jane's attention. She dragged her gaze back to the two men as they withdrew from each other, breathing hard.

"_Worse _than a girl," Thor went on.

"Is that meant to be an insult?" Fandral countered, swiping sweat out of his face. "On a better day, Sif could topple _you—_and you know it!"

Jane bit her lip, suddenly realizing that the men must not understand how far their voices carried. But they kept bantering.

"What?" Thor cried. "Sif? Sif's not a _girl."_

"What do you think she is, halfwit?" Fandral shot at him.

"Well, she's…I don't think of her like _that,_" Thor answered. "How could I? None of us do."

"She'd probably knock you down and impale you if you suggested it," Fandral joked.

Worried, Jane glanced at Sif.

Sif's expression had transformed.

It had gone soft, brilliance in her eyes. And then, when Thor laughed, pain flashed across her face, vivid and unchecked. Her hands started to shake. She swallowed hard and clamped them together in her lap, staring at them.

Jane's heart twisted.

"Excuse me, Lady Jane," Sif said, her voice unsteady. "I do not feel well."

And she got up, turned and strode away toward the palace.

Jane released her breath in a rush and fell back onto the pillow. She pressed her hand to her heart—her pulse raced, and she fought to steady her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She knew she was already tired, and still recovering—but now she felt like she'd been beaten within an inch of her life. She covered her face with her hand and stifled tears as a bird landed on her umbrella and began to twitter, and the clanging of swords continued to ring through the broad morning sun.

LLLLL

"Would you like me to open the curtains?_"_

Jane turned to answer Frigg's smile as the gold-headed queen strode across Jane's room.

"Yes, thank you," Jane nodded. Frigg, wearing a long, elegant blue gown, swept across the soft green carpet toward the east side of the room, moved around the bed, and reached up to grasp the towering silver curtains. With one swift flourish, Frigg parted them, and sunlight flooded the room. Jane blinked and squinted for a moment, and when her eyes adjusted, she smiled again as she glanced around.

A wide four-poster bed, its headboard against the eastern wall, dominated the room. Dark green curtains with silver embroidered Celtic knots hung from its rods, and the mattress bore a dozen matching pillows and a feather comforter. The curtains Frigg had opened actually led to a small balcony, and through it Jane glimpsed the clear, cloudless sky and the bold sunlight. Against the north wall stood a broad, intricately-carved wooden vanity with a crystal-clear mirror, and against the south wall towered a double-doored black wardrobe. The high walls were silvery green, and the ceiling…

"Oh…" Jane breathed as tilted her head back to look. The ceiling was pitch black—and more than fifty constellations had been painted there in brilliant silver. They sparkled against their dark background—lovely patterns, yet completely unfamiliar to her.

"What a beautiful room!" Jane exclaimed quietly, carefully stepping forward toward the bed. Still gazing at the ceiling, she turned around and leaned back against the foot of the bed, absently pressing her hands to her middle, where she still felt sore. She wore another very loose, white, floor-length gown today, and no shoes—it was still a little hard for her to move around, and she got easily winded, but she felt much better than a day ago.

"So glad you like it," Frigg said, tying one curtain back with a cord. "A fairy told me you would like this guest room for your stay."

Jane thought a moment—then realized this must be the Asgardian phrase equivalent to "a little bird told me."

"Oh!" Jane said. "Thor?"

"No," Frigg said lightly, tying back the other curtain. Jane waited, but Frigg didn't elaborate. Jane frowned.

"Do you like flowers?" Frigg asked, turning a bright look on her.

"I…Yes," Jane answered, thrown. Frigg stepped toward her.

"Any particular kind?"

Jane laughed and shook her head.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I like them all."

"All right," Frigg inclined her head, smiling. "I'll go out to the gardens myself and choose some for this room—it needs a little something in here to brighten it up."

"Thank you, ma'am," Jane said, feeling warm all over. Frigg smiled at her again, then turned and glided out through the open double doors.

Jane sighed, glancing around her again, listening to a lark outside twitter quietly.

She straightened, pushing away from the bed, and shuffled to the threshold of the balcony and grasped the curtain. She could see all of the gardens below, like an intricate puzzle of stone walls, fountains, hedges and colorful garden plots.

"Are you enjoying your view?"

Jane spun around at the sound of the low, masculine voice.

A tall, white-haired, bearded man wearing a patch over his right eye stood smiling at her in the doorway, his long red robes draping to the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Odin!" Jane gasped, then blushed. "I mean…um…"

"You may address me as All-Father, or sir," he said, then glanced around. "May I come in?"

"Yes. Yes, _sir_," Jane said quickly, nodding. Odin stepped inside and further assessed the chamber.

"I wasn't sure you would enjoy this room—it is decorated in rather masculine colors," Odin commented. "But my wife seemed certain it would suit you."

"It does, sir," Jane smiled. "I love the ceiling."

"Ah, yes," Odin glanced up. "Elementary astronomy lessons. This is called the Cosmos Room because of it." Odin paused in the middle of the floor. "We have a thousand guest rooms in this palace. My wife and I decorated most of them, but this entire wing was undone when we ran out of inspiration. So, we left it in the charge of our two sons." Odin chuckled. "They have turned into some of my favorite chambers."

Jane rubbed her thumb against the soft curtain, suddenly uneasy. However, Odin turned back toward the door and changed the subject.

"I have brought something you left behind at the healing rooms," he said, and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a red-garbed servant entered—

Holding the curved-horned helmet in both hands, still stained with Jane's blood. Sunlight from the balcony caught it, and the metal flashed the light back into her eyes.

"I…I didn't leave it…" she tried, staring at it as she servant strode to her vanity and set it down on the smooth wooden surface, then departed.

"It was left it with you," Odin reminded her.

"But…But shouldn't it be returned?" Jane asked, still unable to look away from it.

"That is _Loki's _helmet," Odin chuckled. "And he will do whatever he wants with it, whenever he wants—as he has so often told the master at arms. He's left it in your care for now. I am certain that when he decides to, he will come and retrieve it."

Jane bit her lip, but had no idea how to protest. Then, Odin stepped toward her, and his blue gaze caught hers.

"Take my arm? We will go out onto the balcony and you can see the view—and I can ask you about a few things that have had me curious these past few days."

Jane swallowed, but nodded, and reached up to take Odin's proffered arm. Carefully, he led her over the threshold of the balcony and out into the sun. The wind tousled Jane's hair, and the tile felt warm on her bare feet. They reached the high, broad stone railing and Odin let her go, and she leaned her elbows on it. She could see even further now—even to the rolling green foothills, and the hulking shadows of the mountains in the far distance.

"Now, Lady Jane," Odin said, turning a solemn gaze upon her. "Please tell me what happened to my son after he fell from the Asbru Bridge."

LLLLL

At first, talking was like pulling a long splinter out of her hand. She couldn't bring herself to say his name—_either _of them—and she couldn't form sentences any longer than four or five words. But Odin asked pointed questions, and she got the sense that he was interested in fact rather than feelings, so Jane managed to start at the beginning.

She told him how she and Darcy had thought Thor was returning, and gone out into the desert to run across a dark-haired man instead—one who had called himself Fenris. Jane told Odin about his injuries, and how he would not eat—and how she finally succeeded in feeding him. She told him in detail about the skirmish in the bar, when his hands had turned blue—and about their riddle challenge under the stars.

Odin listened closely all the while, but his gaze intensified when she told him that he had given her one of the Lokistones, and that Tony Stark had come visiting and they had talked until the wee hours—and then the Cube was stolen. Jane could see the questions in the king's face as her story lengthened, but he didn't interrupt her.

And as she spoke, memories began rising up.

The look of his sharp, dark figure and pale countenance against the sky as they walked down a dirt road in the desert…

How the firelight flickered against his face and black hair as he had gazed at the night sky, studying Taurus and Orion…

The way his solemn expression and emerald eyes had lit up with a warm smile and a sudden laugh mere moments after he had re-conjured that table spoon for her…

The warmth that had spread through her when he had set his chin on the crown of her head, and they watched the stars streak through the silver clouds…

How his hand had entwined with hers as they had walked through the dark, snowy forest…

She had to admit, the telling got easier as she went—

Until she got to the point when she was seized in the hallway by one of Doom's men.

Then everything crumbled into pain.

She stared down at her hands, which rested on the stone railing, and spoke haltingly. She tried, as best she could—though she still couldn't understand it—to describe the way her companion had transformed from a quiet, reserved, brooding wolf to a cocky, confident, smooth-talking snake. How he and Doom had faced off in the center of the vast cavern while she was shuffled to the side.

How Doom had brought out the helmet, and with a metallic rattle and a few sharp flashes, her friend had transformed into Prince Loki.

"After that, it's all kind of blurry," she confessed, feeling nauseated. "But I remember…I remember being shot." She swallowed, then nodded. "I remember that. And I remember…" she took a deep breath to steady herself. "I remember him coming down next to me, taking hold of my hands…and telling me to breathe. Telling me he could fix it. And then…Nothing." She bit her lip and shook her head. "Nothing. Until I woke up and saw Thor sitting next to me."

She glanced up at Odin.

The king's weathered brow furrowed, and he watched her closely.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Loki feared he could not handle the tesseract's power well enough to heal you with it—but he knew _I _had the ability. So he brought you here, even though he had been as good as exiled." Odin gazed at her deeply. "He must care for you very much."

Jane jerked away, her jaw clenching.

"You don't believe he does?" Odin asked.

"He lied to me," she gritted. "I'm sorry, but…He did. He lied."

"About what?"

"About who he was!" she burst out, unable to look at him. "His name, his history—everything."

"From the bits you have told me," Odin began. "It sounds as if the history he recounted to you was true. He just altered the names."

"The names are the most important part," Jane snapped, realizing she was being disrespectful but unable to help it. Her eyes were burning with tears.

"There is a simple reason for that, you know," Odin said.

Jane steeled herself, and stared down at her fingers as she rubbed them back and forth on the stone.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A wise prince," Odin said. "Stranded in a foreign realm, should never reveal his identity to the first people he meets."

"Thor did," Jane answered.

"Ah," Odin turned toward her fully. "And what happened to him?"

Jane glanced up at him, uncertain.

"Well, my…My friend tasered him, and we took him to the hospital…" she said slowly. "And then he got in a fight, so they put him in restraints and…" Jane trailed off. Odin raised his eyebrows. Jane looked away.

"I see your point," she muttered. Odin was silent. Jane's chest clenched.

"But he kept lying to me," she bit out. "In all that time, he never told me the truth."

Odin set his elbow on the railing.

"If I may ask," Odin said. "What was your opinion of the prince Loki?"

Jane looked at him, startled. He smiled quietly.

"Don't worry. You may speak your mind. Believe me, I have heard it all."

Jane hesitated, and glanced out over the gardens.

"I knew he was the one who sent the Destroyer after us," Jane said. "He tried to _kill_ Thor and his friends—and _my _friends." She met Odin's eye. "I was afraid of him."

"So tell me, Lady Jane," Odin said. "When my son was wounded, and at your mercy, why would he reveal to you that he was the enemy of your dear Asgardian friend—an enemy who had lain waste to your village and nearly killed your companions?"

Jane couldn't think of anything to say. Odin turned to face the grounds.

"And after his initial deception, I'm afraid his only choice was to _maintain_ this charade—especially after he became desirous of your friendship," he said. "For he had to know that the truth would ruin everything between you. And when is ever the perfect time to ruin everything?"

Jane was glad Odin wasn't looking at her. Two furious tears fell from her eyes, and she quickly reached up and dashed them away. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and tried to catch her breath, as the gentle silence stretched between them.

Finally, she risked a glance up at the ancient king. She could only see his rugged profile, and the edge of his limitless eye. He rested his beaten hands on the railing as well, then turned his head slightly away from her, to the south.

"I saw my sons walking together yesterday, early in the morning, down in a lane in the orchard. Just there," he said softly, pointing. Jane tilted her head and looked around him, and caught sight of a small cherry orchard in a shallow valley. The trees were in full, pinkish-white bloom, and a broad path meandered through the midst of them.

"They were just walking, and talking, side by side," Odin went on. "Thor was barefoot, and still in his nightclothes. And they spoke and listened to each other carefully, attentively. I could not hear what they said—but I thought to myself 'When did my two little boys become men? And when did those men become, not just brothers, but friends?'" Odin shook his head. "I tried to remember a time when I had seen them both so companionable, and I almost could not. Not since they were very small children. Before either had picked up a weapon. Before they knew that everyone expected them to be rivals." Odin glanced down. "For when they were small, you could not find one without the other, nor could you find two dearer or more innocent friends."

Jane swallowed, as sadness settled on the old monarch.

"What happened?" Jane wondered.

Odin heaved a heavy sigh, then faced her again.

"Loki is my son," he said. "But he is not of my body, nor Frigg's."

Jane stared at him, her brow tensing. Odin spoke.

"He is a Frost Giant," he told her. "Which is why his hands changed when he protected you."

Jane's lips parted, but she couldn't form words. Odin went on.

"Long ago, after the great defeat of the Frost Giants, I wandered through the ruins of the city with a handful of my best men, putting down the last pockets of resistance. We came upon a large temple, and we were certain it was a stronghold for several giants who did not mean to surrender. But when we entered, we found no one, and heard nothing. Nothing except the cries of an infant."

Jane's gaze sharpened, and she watched every movement of his face. Odin's expression gained a deep sorrow.

"There, on a pile of broken stones near the sacrificial altar, I found a very little baby. The king's son."

"_What?" _Jane gasped. "Where was his mother? Were his parents dead?"

"No," Odin shook his head. "His father Laufey, until recently, was very much alive."

Jane's hand absently came up and pressed against her heart.

"They just left him there?" she breathed.

"Yes," Odin murmured. "I believe it was because they thought he was too small."

Jane swallowed hard, and it hurt.

"I used magic to make his appearance more similar to an Aesir's—though he seemed to insist upon having very dark hair," Odin half smiled. "I took him home, and raised him alongside Thor." His voice lowered. "But Loki did not know what he was—so he was confused by his magical abilities, and hurt that others seemed to treat him differently for no reason. And the child's tastes and habits were a mystery to me. Though, he was always loving to me and Frigg and Thor."

"Why didn't you tell him the truth?" Jane wondered. Odin met her eyes.

"Perhaps the same reason he did not tell _you _the truth."

Jane's fingers closed.

"Despite my best intentions, however, he found out on his own," Odin said darkly, his voice growing very soft. "The day of the coronation. Just before Thor was banished."

They stood without talking for several minutes, each lost in thought. Jane measured her breathing and closed her eyes, trying to work through the knot of pain and bafflement in her chest.

"I am quite jealous of you, Lady Jane," Odin finally said. She opened her eyes, and gazed once more at the wizened king.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

"Because you were given an impossible opportunity," he answered. "A chance to see my son unmasked, unfettered by the opinions and prejudices that have long clung to him. I know my son because I have spent centuries trying to study his manner and habits and feelings—and even so, he sometimes leaves me bewildered." Odin leaned toward her, his gaze burning. "_You _know my son because, by concealing his name, he did not have to hide behind the façade he had spent centuries building. He could show you his heart, without the fear that you had already judged him. The lie that has so offended you, in truth allowed him to trust you as he has never trusted anyone." Odin sighed, and glanced out at the gardens again. "But now I am certain that he fears you will hate him—or at least despise him, on Thor's account."

Jane felt as if she had been hit—though Odin couldn't have said it gentler. Without waiting for her to answer—she couldn't have, anyway—Odin turned and stepped back into the room.

"Oh, I almost forgot my reason for coming in the first place," he said, in a completely different tone. "My firstborn wished me to ask you, if you are feeling well enough tomorrow, he would like to escort you through any parts of Asgard you wish to see." He paused and turned to her. She managed to nod.

"Good!" he declared. "I will tell him. And I will order a meal to be brought up to you in half an hour."

Jane watched as Odin crossed the threshold, and turned to leave.

Then, he stopped, and faced her again.

"Do you still wear the Lokistone?" he asked, as if in afterthought.

Jane's hand flew to her breastbone. Her fingertips rested on the cold bump beneath her dress.

"Yes," she managed.

Odin smiled, then nodded.

And the king departed.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	24. Chapter 24

_Thank you, as always, for your lovely support! I was blessed with a leisurely weekend, so I hope to bless you with this early chapter! _

_(During this first section, I listened to Destiny in Space Score-Main Theme—which absolutely MUST be listened to, regardless of the length of the section, because I believe it epitomizes Asgard. And for the LAST section, I listened to the October Sky soundtrack: Dream of the Boys—a theme you might recall from earlier…_

_Enjoy! _

_VVV_

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

"_Out of the island, into the highway  
Past the places where you might have turned  
You never did notice, but you still hide away  
Anger of angels who won't return_

He's everything you want, he's everything you need  
He's everything inside of you that you wish you could be  
He says all the right things at exactly the right time  
But he means nothing to you, and you don't know why…"

-Vertical Horizon

Jane wrapped her hand around Thor's bent forearm and took a deep, deep breath. Her lungs filled with the scent of the sea—

And a brisk ocean breeze rushed through her hair and long pink dress. She strode alongside Thor in the bright morning light, straight down the center of the Asbru bridge. Pillars anchored the bridge in place, plunging down through the gray, frothing ocean, and above each pillar, a bronze arch rose. Jane and Thor passed beneath one such towering arch, and its shadow crossed them. The ocean roared against the rocks on either side, and she could hear the trill of the gulls as they swept and flitted overhead, and under the bridge. She glanced down, and let out a soft laugh. The bridge did indeed look like a rainbow—a rainbow-faceted carpet of jewels. And with each step they took, the bridge lit up around their feet, and rang softly. Thor glanced down at her and grinned. She returned the smile, her eyes lingering on him a moment as he faced forward.

Thor, wearing blue, princely garb, just seemed to tower over her. His majestic golden head and broad shoulders caught the sunlight. But as she thought about it, Fenris—Loki—wasn't much shorter than Thor. Perhaps he just didn't stride the way Thor did, with his back straight and his head up. Fenris…Loki…always seemed to have been tilted toward her, looking down at her, listening to her…

She ducked her head, her smile fading.

The two of them made slow progress, for though the twinge in her muscles was almost gone, she still felt a little tired. And as they walked, the sea twisting and foaming, they seemed to leave the bright sunshine behind them…

And the blue of the sky blended into darkness.

Or rather…

The sky gracefully pulled back so she could see heaven.

"Oh…" Jane breathed, and couldn't get anything else out. For past the edge of the deep purple atmosphere, a vast expanse of unadulterated space opened up above them.

In a limitless field of the deepest black she'd ever seen, there swirled and twinkled and winked and pulsed hundreds of galaxies, thousands of nebula, and _billions _of stars. Some stars looked like black velvet had been punctured to let in the blinding light from paradise. Some galaxies looked like a ripple on silver water, or clouds turned blue or green or purple. And some nebula appeared to be the paint-covered fingerprints of an artist accidentally brushing his canvas. All of it glowed and shimmered, raining soft, multicolored light down upon them.

Jane could hardly breathe—and she felt like crying. But she clung to Thor's arm, and drank it all in without saying a word.

At long last, a fervent rushing sound brought her back down to terra firma—and she realized with a start that just ahead of them, the ocean ceased, and plunged downward in an alarming, stomach-dropping waterfall—and at the end of the bridge, there was _nothing _but space. If she wished, she could have raced to the edge and dived off, and fallen through the stars.

She frowned as she and Thor drew closer to the end, and she caught sight of a very tall man in golden armor and a horned helmet, holding a broadsword point-down in front of him. He stood with his back to them.

"Who is that?" she whispered to Thor.

"This is Heimdall," Thor said in a regular voice. "The gatekeeper of Asgard."

"Good morning, my prince," a deep, smooth voice answered. "Good morning, Lady Jane."

Thor drew her up close to Heimdall, though she tightened her grip and winced, eyeing that jagged edge.

"Come," Thor chuckled. "I'll not let you fall."

"But you _can _fall," Jane said, studying the jagged edges. "There's nothing to pull you back if you do, is there?"

"No, you are right," Thor said, his voice quieter. "You _can _fall."

"Is there something you wish to ask me, my prince?" Heimdall asked.

"I'd like you to show Lady Jane what you can do," Thor said, reaching down and taking hold of Jane's hand, and leading her up to the edge.

"_Thor_…" she protested, her heart pounding. Heimdall, now right next to her left, turned toward her. She blinked. He had golden eyes.

"What do you wish to see?" he asked her, his voice vibrating her bones.

"What? What do you mean?" Jane asked, trying not to get dizzy because of the boundless drop just feet away.

"I can see anything—anything in all the realms, that exists in this moment," Heimdall answered.

"Anything," Jane repeated.

"Ask him something," Thor suggested, clearly enjoying himself. "Ask him to look for something you've lost."

"But…" Jane shot Thor a glance. "On Earth? Midgard?" she corrected.

"Yes," Thor said, his eyes twinkling. She cleared her throat, and turned back to Heimdall, keeping a death grip on Thor's hand.

"I…Um, a month or two ago, I went to put on a pair of earrings," she offered feebly. "They were my mother's. But I couldn't find one. They—"

"They are gold, bearing small emeralds. The lost one is under your wooden dresser," Heimdall told her. "In the back near the wall, to the right hand side."

Jane's mouth fell open. Thor laughed in delight.

"Now turn around," Thor instructed, motioning to Heimdall. "Turn around and tell her about something in Asgard."

Heimdall paused for a moment, then brought his great form around to face the towering spires of the palace, gleaming in the sunlight. Jane did the same, though she felt uneasy about turning her back to the abyss.

"Ask," Thor prodded.

"I…I don't know!" Jane laughed. "I didn't come with much, and I know where everything is, except—" Her heart thudded, but the word fell out of her mouth before she knew it.

"Loki." She glanced up at Heimdall. "Can you…Can you see Loki?"

"Yes," Heimdall replied, a small smile on his lips. "He is out of the sun—but that is all I know."

"Why?" Jane asked.

"Because he is hiding himself from me," Heimdall told her. "Which he has often done these past days. It is a rare talent, but I do not begrudge him his solitude. For as I watch, no mischief follows in his wake."

Jane's heart felt like it had skipped a beat, and as a result now beat unevenly. She gripped Thor's hand hard—Thor had gone silent. But when she turned and looked at him, his bright eyes just watched her.

The two of them stayed a few minutes longer, discussing Heimdall's old duties when the gate had stood at the edge of the sea—though Jane found it hard to pay attention. After bidding him farewell, they headed back up the Asbru bridge, toward the sparkling city, and this time, Jane could smell flowers on the wind that blew from the land.

"I thought I would take you around the grounds this morning," Thor said. "And then, when it gets too hot in the afternoon, I will show you inside the palace."

Jane nodded.

"Sounds good," she said, trying to shake off the heavy feeling in her chest—the feeling that seemed so similar to disappointment.

LLLLLL

"This…this is _amazing_," Jane shook her head as they stepped through an archway in a stone wall, onto a narrow path that meandered through dozens of sunlit, shoulder-high rose bushes, all in full bloom.

"I've never seen so many roses!" she exclaimed, pulling away from Thor and turning to cup a flawless Maiden's Blush rose in both hands. Thor kept walking a ways, then stopped and glanced back at her.

"Watch out. Asgardian roses bite," he warned.

"So do Midgardian roses," Jane retorted, bending down to smell it. Her knees went weak. "Oh!_ Oh_ my goodness!" Jane closed her eyes and drew in another breath. "I've never smelled anything like that. I can almost taste it."

"Please don't," Thor teased. She shot him a mock glare. He chuckled.

"Come on—this is the fastest way to the monuments. And this is no different than the tulip garden or the other garden," he beckoned to her. "Whatever that one was before the tulips."

"Daffodil," Jane reminded him, reluctantly leaving the perfect pale-pink rose to walk up beside him again. "And it _is _different. You could almost drown in the smell of these."

Thor shook his head.

"_That _would be a terrible fate."

"You don't like flowers?" Jane asked him. He shrugged as they rounded a bend, entering into a forest of roses red as blood.

"They look well on a table," he said. "But other than that..." He shrugged again.

"When I was getting my masters in astrophysics," Jane said, trailing her hand through the delicate blooms. "I took a horticulture class, just for fun, and we learned all about Victorian flower language."

Thor frowned at her.

"What is that?"

"During the reign of a certain Midgardian queen, it was fashionable to send messages with flowers," she explained. "Each one had a special meaning."

"Such as?"

"Well…" Jane glanced around. "Roses. A dozen red roses means 'congratulations.' But a single red rose means 'I love you.'"

"How did they keep them straight?" Thor asked.

"Looked it up," she replied. "Or they just memorized them—it's easy enough to…" She trailed off as a low door to their right, overhung with ivy, caught her eye. She slowed. The wooden door hung slightly ajar…

And through it, lit by a dappled pattern of sunlight, shone a mysterious glimmer of colors.

She left Thor, and ducked toward the wooden entrance and pushed it aside. The hinges were silent.

"Jane?" Thor's voice sounded startled, but she ignored him. She stepped through…

Into a small, cool, mostly-shaded garden unlike any she had ever seen.

Weeping willows hugged the walls, deep green ivy covered the stone, and ferns crowded the shade. The paved path meandered and split in a dozen different directions, and two multi-tiered fountains glittered and sang in the rare patches of sunlight. A great black rock stood in the center of the garden, in a little plaza—right in the center of the only place that provided full sun. And all around it, arranged in an intricate but controlled-wilderness-like manner, grew more kinds of flowers than Jane had ever seen.

"Incredible," Jane breathed. She heard Thor come up behind her.

"Jane…" he called again, but she was captivated.

"See, okay, here's another example," she said, stepping forward to touch a brilliant Azalea bloom. "This means 'I am true to the end.' And this…" She hurried around a bend, picking up her skirt as she went, and leaned down to cradle a vibrant red carnation. "This means 'my heart aches for you.'"

"Who thought of _that _sentimental nonsense?" Thor asked, walking up to her, then a little past her. She straightened, watching him sweep his gaze through the whole garden.

"Not all of it is sentimental. _Some_ can be useful," Jane said. "Some flowers mean 'danger,' or 'no,' or 'dance with me?' or…" She stopped as her gaze landed on a particular patch of long-stemmed beauties. She slipped past Thor, and stepped up to a vibrant group of broad-petaled white flowers. She cupped one in her hands and studied the bright yellow center, and the single red dot that adorned each petal.

"This is a gum cistus," she said softly. "Which means 'I shall die tomorrow.'"

"So one gives this when one is sick?" Thor questioned.

"_No_," Jane rolled her eyes, then stroked the petals with her thumb. "This one _is_ sentimental." She took a slow breath. "It's not literal, it's in your heart."

Thor gave a hearty, dismissive laugh.

"It's _romantic_," Jane stated, still gazing at the flower. "It's a lost art, really—like letter-writing, and sending poetry. I think people were generally just more romantic in the old days, especially when they had a lot of time to…" She paused, then realized that Thor had left her side. She straightened, let go of the flower, and frowned at him. He was standing a good way off, squinting up at the sky.

"You're not listening to me," Jane accused. She started toward him. "What are you looking at?"

"I was just hoping it doesn't rain. The clouds look like it might," he said.

"Why would that matter?" Jane asked.

"Hogun and Volstaag are going to be sparring soon, and I wanted you to see them—it'll be a real show." Thor grinned down at her. She allowed herself to smile, and nodded, but she cast a wistful glance back at the rest of the garden.

"I wish I could stay a little bit longer," she sighed.

"We actually shouldn't be in here," Thor said, taking hold of her hand and gently pulling her along the path. "This is Loki's garden—only family comes in, once in a while."

Jane's pulse skyrocketed.

"Wh…It's _his_?"

"Yes," Thor nodded. "Not even a gardener is allowed in here—he does this all himself. And the flowers change all the time, to suit his mood."

Jane slowed her pace, resisting Thor a little as they walked, gazing back again at the countless flowers.

And then she looked up at the palace, which towered right beside…

And she caught sight of a familiar window.

"Thor?" she tugged on him, and he stopped.

"What?"

She pointed upward.

"Are those…I think those are my curtains," she realized. "There, on the third story. Is that my room?"

"Yes," he nodded. "The Cosmos Room?"

"Yes," Jane said, her eyes fixed on it.

"Good," Thor decided, taking her hand again. "You can look at this garden all you want from up there." He turned and gave her another brilliant smile. "Now we need to hurry—before the clouds come and ruin the day!"

LLLLLLLLLL

"I think I am sunburned," Jane decided, glancing down at her bare arms. She and Thor strode down a broad alabaster hallway with marble floors and an arching ceiling that towered higher than any tree.

It had _not_ rained on them—the clouds had cleared off, leaving a perfectly beautiful early afternoon behind, and she had watched Hogun and Volstaag spar, which _had _been a spectacular sight. But all the while, Jane had to keep chiding herself to stop thinking about that garden.

Now, she explored the palace with Thor. They had already seen the awe-inspiring throne room, and the feasting hall, and now they headed toward the upper floors. Thor wanted to show her a tower that he and Fandral had once scaled down.

They traipsed up and up, taking their time, Thor telling stories all the while as Jane marveled at the sky-scraping architecture, fantastic statues and brilliant, majestic banners.

Finally, they reached the heights of the palace, and followed a long, narrow corridor toward the light of a balcony at the very end.

"You see, Fandral and I had a wager," Thor was saying, gesturing as they walked. "That he could beat me down from the tallest point in Asgard to the lowest point—beneath the water, you see—without breaking his neck."

Jane laughed, keeping stride with him.

"And so the two of us came up here, without the knowledge of my father, of course, and we harnessed ourselves, with ropes, to the pillars…"

Jane slowed, Thor's voice fading into the background. And she stopped in front of another door that hung a little bit open.

"What's this?" she asked. Thor, several strides down the hall, halted.

"Er…I don't…"

She stepped toward it, and pushed on the black wood of the door. It yielded. And when she stepped inside, what she saw took her breath away.

It was a large, dome-shaped chamber with a hole in the center of the ceiling. Sunlight poured down into the room…

And flashed on the surface of a broad, glassy-smooth, circular pool of water. The walls of the pool, made of polished marble, stood waist high. All around the pool, dozens of tables waited, stacked with books, scrolls, and papers—as well as metal compasses, marking and measuring tools, paperweights…

"Oh, I remember," Thor said, finally entering behind her. "I never come up here. But we call it Loki's Looking Glass." He pointed to the pool. "See—the pool reflects the sky, and he uses it—"

"To study the stars," Jane finished, stepping closer. "I've heard of it—ancient civilizations used this technique…" She trailed around the pool, once again wishing it was night so that she could study the stars uninhibited, without even having to strain her neck…

She turned, and walked past the tables, leaning over the charts and maps laid out there, her fingers itching to pick them up and look at them—but she didn't dare.

And then she stopped. She lifted her head, and her mouth fell open.

In front of her stood a broad, oaken bookshelf stuffed with leather-bound tomes.

"What are these?" she gasped.

"Loki has been writing down all of his observations and discoveries," Thor answered from across the room. "He's been doing that since I can remember. I think each volume talks about an individual Asgardian constellation, but I'm not sure."

Jane had to wrap her arms around herself to keep from pulling the first one right off the shelf.

And then she caught sight of something else.

Next to the shelf perched a small desk, like the ones monks used to illuminate manuscripts. Up in the top left hand corner sat an inkwell, with a long raven feather quill sticking out of it. On the desk's small writing surface lay another book, its front cover open.

And on the first page, in careful, strong strokes of black ink, had been written:

_The Constellations of Midgard_

Jane couldn't resist anymore. She reached out and lifted the top page, and gazed down at the pristine, even writing beneath. And her gaze snagged on a middle paragraph.

_Pleiades means 'seven sisters.' It is an open star cluster blue stars. The Pleiades rests in the middle of the Taurus constellation, and it is one of the nearest star clusters to Midgard—or Earth, as it is called by those who live there._

Jane pulled her hand back. The top page silently fell back down to cover the second page. She trembled, and swallowed hard as a white-hot memory flashed through her mind.

_ "That was quick of you. I must think of a better one."_

"_That isn't fair. It's my turn."_

"_Oh—I defy you to give me a riddle I don't already know." _

"Jane?"

She blinked, and turned back to Thor—who was watching her with real concern. She forced a smile.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I'm…I'm coming." And she skirted the star pool and came back to him, and together they stepped through the door…

But not before Jane glanced back at the pool, and the shelf, and the book that lay open on the desk.

LLLLLLL

Jane made herself smile as Volstaag reached the climax of his loudly-told, humorous story and the whole, long table of courtiers burst out laughing. Jane turned back to her golden plate, which was filled with delicious-looking fruits, buttered bread, smoked pheasant and fresh vegetables. She took her thin knife and prodded the vegetables. She wasn't hungry at all.

"What's wrong?" Thor asked, coming down off of his laughter and turning toward her. She looked up. Thor sat right across from her, to Odin's right. She sat to Odin's left, and Fandral, who was still laughing at the story, sat to _her_ left.

"Nothing," Jane said quickly. "I'm just a little tired."

Thor's brow furrowed and he leaned toward her.

"Would you like me to escort you to your room?"

"No," Jane gave him another weak smile—she hoped it fooled him. "No, I'm fine."

Thor watched her for another moment, so she forced herself to pick up a piece of mango and eat it. Satisfied, he turned to his father and began telling him about Volstaag and Hogun's feats that afternoon. And for the fiftieth time since dinner had begun in that great, golden hall, Jane's eyes fell upon the untouched, perfectly-arranged, empty place next to Thor.

She knew who was supposed to sit there. Everyone else in Asgard that she had met—Eir, the other healers, Odin, the Warriors Three, Frigg—all sat at this table, talking and eating happily. But not the second-born prince.

Jane reached with a slightly-trembling hand for her goblet of water, and took a slow drink—and for the forty-ninth time, her gaze strayed down the table to find Lady Sif, who just stared down at her full plate of food. She wore a simple, modest blue gown, and her hair was bound up—and she looked about the way Jane felt. She just wasn't trying to hide it.

Past Thor, movement caught Jane's attention. She jerked and stopped breathing. A tall, dark man strode into the hall from the corridor—

Her eyes focused. He had a beard, and was much too old.

It wasn't him.

She let out a shaking breath, frowning and scolding herself. Every single time someone had come into the room, her heart clenched and she felt herself turn to ice. There was _no way _she could eat any more. She folded her hands in her lap, biting her lip, considering leaning toward Odin and asking him to excuse her…

"I wonder where Loki has got to," Odin said, cutting up his meat. "He hasn't sat down to dinner with us even one time since he's been back."

Jane's stomach instantly turned nervous and sick.

"I haven't seen him—I've been with Jane all day," Thor answered, smiling at her. "Though I ate breakfast with him yesterday. Well," Thor shrugged. "_I _ate. I don't think he even touched what was on his plate."

"I walked with him this morning in the orchard," Odin said. "He said he keeps mostly to his Looking Glass and his chambers, but I've found it hard to catch him at either place."

"I saw him this afternoon," Fandral inserted.

"And what did you say?" Thor demanded, leveling a severe look at him. Fandral held up his hands.

"Don't worry—I remembered your threat vividly. I was very polite to him," Fandral's brow furrowed. "Though when I saw him, I didn't really feel inclined to be otherwise. The poor fellow looked quite done up. Doesn't he sleep?"

Odin shook his head and took a bite.

"No, not much, I don't believe. The servants haven't had to make his bed once—and I've seen him on more than one occasion out in his garden very late at night."

Jane clamped her cold hands together underneath the table, feeling faint. She lifted her face, and was just about to open her mouth to take Thor up on his earlier offer—

"Miss?"

She jumped, and turned to her right. A small pageboy stood at her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"The queen wishes to see you, Miss," the page said. "Just there, on the balcony."

Jane turned, and looked through a tall doorway to an ivory-colored balcony, half lit by torchlight and half lit by moonlight. There, leaning on the railing, stood Frigg—who gazed back into Jane's eyes.

"All right. Thank you," Jane said, slid out and got up, and strode as quickly and as inconspicuously as she could behind all of the courtiers.

Once she left the circle of light, and stepped out into the dark and the evening air, she could breathe a little easier. She slowed down as she came up next to the gentle queen.

"Good evening, Lady Jane," Frigg smiled at her. Jane nodded to her.

"Good evening, ma'am."

"Come stand next to me," she beckoned. Jane hesitated, then did as she asked, approaching and leaning on the railing. She glanced up.

The black sky was riddled with stars, and the whirling galaxies and nebula she had seen before—all breathtakingly beautiful and glittering like jewels. The sight of them sent an unexplained pang shooting from the base of her throat down through her chest. She bowed her head, so she could only see the shadowed grounds below.

"Lady Jane, there is something I must tell you," Frigg said quietly. "Not as a queen, but as a fellow woman, and as a mother."

Jane glanced up. Frigg's warm eyes watched her, but her expression was solemn.

"Yes?" Jane asked quietly, brow tightening.

"It is all over Asgard that my son Thor plans to wed you," Frigg said. "I'm afraid your dramatic arrival created quite a stir—and news of every move the two of you make spreads like wildfire even to the outlying villages."

Jane's muscles went taut. Frigg sighed, and watched her hand as she ran her fingertips across the stone.

"There is nothing worse than a rumor," Frigg stated. "It breeds false assumptions, that it then poisons with uncertainty." Frigg met Jane's eyes. "Which is why I have urged Thor to propose to you tomorrow morning."

"He—" Jane started, though she hardly knew what to say.

"Hear me out," Frigg held up a hand. "I am _not _implying that you should accept _or _refuse him. I merely wish everything between you to be defined and announced as soon as possible, so that this mindless chatter throughout the kingdom can cease—regardless of the outcome. Speculation can prove to be a wicked sword, hurtful to many."

Jane gulped, her hands shivering.

"I just wanted you to know his plans—though you must not let on that I told you," Frigg advised. "It's simply that I don't believe a woman should be utterly surprised by a proposal. It isn't fair. And…" Frigg looked at her pointedly. "I wanted to give you the night to consider his coming offer. Marriage to Thor would bring you happiness, I am certain, and children, and the status and longevity of an Aesir. But it would also mean you would someday be queen—and that would bring you tremendous responsibility." Frigg paused, and her voice lowered. "There is also your heart to consider. I have no doubt that this has all been very sudden and overwhelming for you. But if it is at all possible, I would urge you to quiet yourself tonight, organize your thoughts…" Frigg reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Jane's ear, and smiled. "And find out, regardless of other people's wishes or expectations, what it is that will make _you _truly happy."

For a long time, Jane could look nowhere but at Frigg, as the queen's words turned over and over in her head. Finally, Jane managed to take a breath.

"Does…Who else knows that Thor is…is planning to ask me to marry him?"

"The family," Frigg answered glancing back into the hall. "And Thor's closest friends. But they have all been bound to silence, by Odin's request. Your official choice, tomorrow, is the only thing we wish to be made public."

Jane stared out over the gardens, unable to see them. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Are you tired?" Frigg asked. Jane's brow tensed and her lip trembled—she nodded.

"I will have Thor take you up to your room. Come," Frigg said, drawing near to her, sliding her arm around her waist, and leading her back into the warmth of the feasting hall.

LLLLLL

Jane didn't talk as she held onto Thor's arm while they quietly strolled up toward her room. Thor's broad hand rested on top of hers, and he didn't speak. She leaned against him—a tall, strong, warm anchor. She stared at the floor.

Finally, they arrived at her threshold, and she let go of him and turned the brass handle on the door. The door eased open.

"Thank you," she murmured, barely glancing at him. "Goodnight."

"Jane?"

She stopped, and looked up at him. He hesitated, his blue eyes watchful, a half smile on his face.

"May I call on you tomorrow, midmorning, here?" he asked. "There is something particular I'd like to ask you."

"Oh," Jane's eyebrows went up as her heart skipped a beat. She forced her face to show nothing. "Yes," she nodded. "Yes, that would be fine."

"All right," his smile broadened. "Goodnight." And he caught up her hand, and kissed her knuckles. Jane watched him. He squeezed her fingers, met her eyes one more time, then let her go. She managed a small smile, then turned and entered her room, shut her door, and leaned back against it.

Jane let out a deep, shuddering breath, then glanced around. Several lamps had been lit, and a couple candles, warming the deep green and silver room, but leaving shadows in the corners. The curtains had also been drawn, hiding the balcony.

Wearily, she stepped toward the wardrobe, planning to put on her nightgown and climb right into that huge, soft bed and curl up tight.

A flame off to her left flickered when she moved. She paused, and glanced at it.

A single candle had been lit on her vanity.

The tall helmet with curved horns, sitting where it always had, gleamed softly in its light.

And lying right next to the face of it, on the flawless wood, was a white flower.

Jane gasped, her heart pounding. She took half a step, stopped, then took three more steps closer.

She tilted her head, eyes wide, to see it better.

The candle lit up the five soft white petals, the yellow center, and the deep red dots that marked each petal like a drop of blood.

A cistus.

Her hands flew to her throat. A deep, strangled sob tore through her, and she clapped her right hand over her mouth.

Her legs failed her, and she sank down onto the vanity stool, then doubled over, grabbing the edge of the table with a shaking hand. Tears burned her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut and fought to keep her cries silent. But they fought her, and her entire body trembled and shook. Her hand closed into a fist as she lifted her face, and her clouded eyes swept over every detail of the helmet and the flower that lay beside it, each so flawless and soft in the candlelight.

Gasping and choking, she took her quivering hand down from her mouth and stretched it out to the flower. Her quaking fingertips touched the delicate petals, even as she battled for breath and tears dripped from her chin. Then, she dared to lift her hand, and barely touch the cold forehead of the helmet.

A brief, stifled wail of pain ripped through her as she bent her head and laid it on the vanity, her hand falling down to rest on the flower, her left arm wrapped hard around her middle.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_

_I used a great deal of symbolism in this chapter. YES, every _plant_ I mentioned has a meaning. If you're curious, look it up by typing in "The Forgotten Language of Flowers." If you can't find it, send me a message and I'll tell you. ;)_


	25. Chapter 25

_Oh, my dears—I love you so! :D Your reviews are priceless to me—keep them up!_

_The song within is called "I Must Live All Alone" by Lesley Nelson-Burns._

_Enjoy!_

_VVV_

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

"_For all the times I tried for this  
And every chance at you I missed  
I've been known to go my way  
But I confess it made me miss you more_

_I drew my line across the sand  
And set my flag in no-man's-land  
But here I am, the one man band  
With a __song__ that's meant for two_

_And there is a light from a higher window  
Shining down on you tonight_

_And the __music __floats on the breeze  
Bringing an easier time  
And all of our cards are on the table  
Tell me what you want to do  
Just don't tell me that it's too late  
For me to love you."_

_-Higher Window_

Jane sat on the edge of her bed, gazing out the open balcony at the clear blue sky. The cool morning air drifted in, and she could hear the larks chirping in the gardens.

She had not slept all night. She had lain in bed sobbing for several hours, and after she had run out of tears, she had turned restlessly back and forth, flinging the covers off only to pull them back over herself—and once or twice she had gotten up and paced back and forth, trying to exert some energy so as to make herself tired. Her midsection had panged all the while.

At the break of day, she had gotten up, washed, put on a long green dress with a sash, brushed out her hair, made her bed, and sat down and waited for Thor. She knew it would be a long wait—he'd said he would come at _mid_morning—but she couldn't face anyone else before she'd seen him, and she had no appetite and no desire to go out on the grounds or lose herself in the halls. She glanced over her shoulder at the stained helmet, and the cistus that lay beside it. The petals remained just as beautiful as before.

_Knock, knock_.

She jumped. Her heart leaped into her throat. She stood up, and, her body shaking, hurried to her door and opened it—

Thor stood outside, smiling at her.

But he wore the same maroon clothes he had for dinner the night before.

And though he looked as if he had cleaned up, he was tired.

She frowned at him.

"Thor? What…What are you doing here?" she glanced past him. "I thought you weren't coming until the middle of the morning."

"Please forgive me," he said. "I couldn't wait any longer."

Jane went cold.

"May I come in?" Thor asked, stepping toward her. Helpless, Jane nodded, then drew back and opened the door further to let in his towering form. He strode past her, then turned and faced her.

"Do you mind if we…If we go out there to talk?" Thor asked, pointing to the balcony. "I believe I need a bit of fresh air."

Clasping her hands in front of her, her stomach flipping, Jane nodded, and followed him as they trailed out onto the balcony, into the cool breeze and sunshine. He stepped up to the railing and braced both hands against it, taking a deep breath. Jane came up beside him, watching him, her brow tight. He took another breath.

"Thor—" Jane stopped him, though her chest tightened. "There's something I have to—"

"Jane," Thor cut in, turning to her. "Jane, I came here to tell you something very important. And before you say anything, I want you to listen to me."

She halted, swallowed, then nodded. His blue eyes captured hers, but just for an instant—because he turned and looked out over the gardens.

"When I fell to Midgard, during my banishment," he began. "And I met you—I was never more enchanted with anyone in my life. I was enthralled by your beauty and your sweetness and brilliance, and I could not help myself but want to be near you."

"Thor—" Jane said again.

"No," he met her eyes and held up a hand. "Hear me out. Please."

Jane tried to take a breath. It didn't work. Thor went on.

"Then, after I broke the Asbru bridge and realized I could not get back to you, I pined over you for a long while," he said. "It distressed my parents even further—and soon, I began to feel how deep their distress was—and I began to feel my own distress for my brother. I knew that you were well, and busy, and no harm would come to you. But my brother…" Thor shook his head. "There was a stretch of time when we did not know if he was even alive." He lowered his head. "Uncertainty is wretched. And it consumed us. We did a great deal of talking, and remembering, and wishing…and cursing ourselves." His voice softened. "More than a thousand years is a long time to love someone. And a day is far too long when you believe he may be lost."

Jane quieted, truly listening now—and wondering where he was going with this.

Thor sighed, and rested his elbows on the balcony.

"Then, he came back—and he brought _you_," Thor glanced at her. "Which I was partially prepared for—Heimdall had seen that Loki was with you all the while."

Jane blinked, but she didn't interrupt this time. Thor kept going.

"And that threw everything into a jumble," he muttered. "All of Asgard knew of your arrival within the hour—and of course, my family and friends knew our history together on Midgard. And finally, when I at last knew my brother was safe—but _you _were so hurt—a great deal of feeling for you came back to me." He sighed and rubbed his face. "Then, the rumors started. My mother hates idle talk, but no one knew what to do about it. Besides which, there is that law…" His jaw tightened and he clasped his hands. "And so she gave me a solution. A mandate, really." He turned, and watched her. "Propose marriage to you. This morning."

Jane's chest locked. Thor held her gaze.

And then he looked away. Jane's gaze sharpened.

"I prepared myself to do as she advised," Thor said. "And last night, I escorted you up here with a contented heart, ready to sleep soundly and come to you in the morning, and ask you to be my bride." His hands closed tightly around each other. "But then, as I stood there in my room," His great brow furrowed, his eyes distant. "Something began to trouble me. And all night long, it pestered me, like a thorn stuck in me somewhere I could not find. I paced back and forth and pulled at my beard—I didn't even put on my night clothes." His expression darkened further. "I knew I cared for you, I knew I was honor-bound by my promise to return for you—and _further _bound by your kiss, which is an unmistakable and irrevocable declaration of a woman's loyalty and preference that is never easily undone."

Jane opened her mouth in surprise, but checked herself, for Thor was not done speaking.

"But something inside me would not listen to those reasons, no matter how I argued. It was like…" he shifted toward her, looking at her intently as if trying to get her to understand, then pressing his fingertips to his chest. "It was like there was a piece in my chest that I was trying to make fit into a space—but it would not fit. It was waiting for some other piece, some piece I could not find. And the harder I tried to put the first piece in place, the more restless and wild I became. Until I finally realized something—something I had never given myself time to see before." He leaned toward her. "I met you on Midgard and you captivated me utterly. And then I grieved because I'd lost you. But then, when I had you back, and I was abruptly forced to consider honoring my promise and spending eternity bound to you, I suddenly knew—"

"You don't love me," Jane whispered. Thor gazed back at her solemnly, his blue eyes brilliant as the sky.

"I do not think I even know you," he said.

For a moment, neither of them stirred.

And suddenly, Jane began to breathe again. And her face filled with heat.

Thor blinked, and half his mouth quirked upward.

"You're smiling."

Jane ducked her head and covered her mouth, but she was unable to suppress the glow in her chest.

"No, no, I'm not," she protested. "It's just that I…I…"

"You don't love me, either," he said.

She lifted her eyes to him, still halfway covering her mouth.

"No," she murmured carefully. He watched her for a moment—

Then Thor laughed out loud. The sound rang through the chambers and over the garden.

"Oh, _Jane!" _he said, grabbing her shoulders and planting a kiss firmly on her forehead. He backed up, met her eyes and shook her gently. "Why did you not _say_ so?"

"I…Well, I thought _you _loved _me, _and I was so worried about hurting you—you've always been so good to me, a very true friend," Jane said earnestly. "And besides, I…well…" She swallowed, blushing harder. "I didn't really realize I didn't love you until last night, either."

"You truly mean that," Thor wanted to know, keeping hold of her. "You are certain? You are not merely saying that because of what I told you?"

"No, no," Jane shook her head. "Though I do care about you," she amended quickly. "And I want you to be happy."

"Likewise," Thor smiled, backing up and affectionately touching his broad hand to the side of her head for a moment, then striding back into the room. "Though I have to confess another thing that I realized last night—it hit me right between the eyes." He swung around and faced her again. "As much as I care for your happiness—I care for my brother's more."

"Wh…What?" Jane croaked, but she hardly made a sound. Thor grinned, turned and started again for the door.

"Where are you going?" Jane called. He pulled on the handle, glanced at her, then sighed and gave a weary laugh.

"I believe I am going back to bed," he declared. "Good night—morning. Tell me what happens."

And he was gone. Jane stood there, floored, for a good ten minutes. Then, twin tears spilled from her eyes and she laughed and put her hand to her mouth, lifting her face so the morning sun danced across her tears.

LLLLLL

Jane paced back and forth in her room, wringing her hands, stepping out onto the balcony and looking out into the empty gardens, only to walk back in and look fleetingly over the helmet and cistus, then at the open door, then back at the balcony.

The palace seemed strangely quiet. Jane bit her lip. Was this some sort of Asgardian tradition day, like Sunday, when they all rested? She ran her hands through her hair, then stopped in the middle of her room and folded her arms.

Distant humming reached her ears, echoing faintly. She held her breath, and cocked her head, listening.

It was a woman's voice. It came from down the hall.

Carefully, she stepped over her threshold, hope leaping in her chest. Perhaps it was Frigg—and if it was, she could tell her about what had happened this morning with Thor's proposal, or lack thereof, and ask her…

She slipped out into the tall, ivory hallway and turned right, following the sound. Her bare feet made no sound on the cold marble. Finally, Jane could understand the words to the song.

"_As I was a-walking one morning by chance;__  
__I heard a maid making her moan,__  
__I asked why she sighed, and she sadly replied__  
__'Alas! I must live all alone, alone,__  
__Alas! I must live all alone.'"_

Jane paused. It was a very sad song—and it didn't sound like Frigg's voice. Nevertheless, it was still familiar…

She pressed on, toward a broad, open door on the right side of the hall, where she could see partial sunlight shining through.

_"__I said, 'My fair maid, pray whence have you strayed?__  
__And are you some distance from home?'__  
__'My home,' replied she, 'is a burden to me,__  
__For there I must live all alone, alone,__  
__For there I must live all alone.'"_

Holding her breath, Jane stopped, and eased around the doorframe…

To peer into Lady Sif's chambers.

The whole, large room was decked out in soft white, highlighted with gold. Three broad eastern windows, covered with sheer curtains, let in the sweeping light. Off to the left stood a great, curtained bed even more lavish than Jane's. Across the room sat a broad vanity, its mirror facing the door where Jane stood. And there, seated at it with her back to her, was Lady Sif. She wore a loose, sleeveless pale dress that was doubtlessly her nightgown, and she was singing wistfully to herself as she carefully pulled the pins out from her up-bound hair—

And let her breathtaking obsidian tresses tumble around her shoulders and down her back. After she finished, she picked up a brush and brought it up to her head.

Then, Sif saw Jane. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Sif's eyes flashed.

But Jane was too overcome to be afraid.

"Oh…_Sif_," she breathed, crossing the soft carpet to stand behind her. Sif watched her fixedly in the mirror. Jane's brow tightened in something like pain.

"You have the most _beautiful _hair!" Jane gasped. Sif blinked—and though her lips parted, she said nothing.

"May I?" Jane asked, holding out her hand toward the brush. Sif hesitated, then carefully handed it to her.

Expertly, but softly and reverently, Jane took up a long lock of hair in one hand and ran the brush through it with the other. Sif's hair gave way to her strokes like silk.

"My mother used to have hair _just _like this," Jane said, an ache running straight through her at the soft feel and the look of these tresses. "I used to love just brushing and brushing and brushing it for her. My dad was blonde, so I got this sort of nondescript, brown…" Jane swallowed hard, smiled and shrugged as she kept combing. Her voice quieted. "But I was always so _jealous_ of my mother's jet black hair." She glanced up at Sif's reflection. She stopped brushing.

There were tears in Sif's eyes.

"Are you all right?" Jane whispered.

"I'm fine," Sif gasped, reaching up and swiping at her eyes. "I'm fine."

Something pulled at Jane's heart again. Gently, she resumed brushing, even as Sif leaned her head forward and closed her eyes. At last, Jane took a breath, and quietly took a risk.

"Thor came to see me today."

Sif's eyes opened.

"Oh?" she said, but her voice broke. Jane pretended she didn't notice, and nodded.

"Yes," she said. She paused a moment, and drew the brush down smoothly. "He said he did not want to marry me."

Sif's head came up. Her eyes went wide.

"And I said I didn't want to marry him, either," Jane added.

Sif whirled around in her chair and pinned Jane in place with a lethal look.

"You had better not be playing games with me, Midgardian—"

"I'm not," Jane said, ducking her head and smiling a little. "Really. It's the truth." She met Sif's eyes, and handed her the brush. Sif stared at her.

And then she leaped up and threw her arms around Jane.

Jane went stiff and dropped the brush. It thudded to the floor.

"Oh, you have no _idea_—" Sif choked, backing up and taking Jane by the shoulders, then reaching down and grabbing her hands. She shook her head hard, tears dripping down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut. "You have no idea," she said in a grave, rough voice. "What kind of night I just spent."

"Oh, I think I do," Jane sighed, glancing away. Sif's bright eyes found her, then she frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Jane sighed again, and sank down into a stool next to the vanity. Sif let go of her hands and sat down again, turning toward her and drying her tears.

"I don't know, I…" Jane picked at the skirt of her dress. "Last night at dinner, Frigg warned me that Thor was going to propose this morning, and he walked me up to my room, said goodnight, and I…" she shook her head and gestured helplessly. "I couldn't sleep. Not at all. I thrashed around all night. I felt sick."

"I have a theory about that," Sif stated. Jane looked at her.

"What is it?"

Sif met her eyes squarely.

"I think you're in love with Loki."

Jane froze. She went ice cold.

And then her whole body rushed full of heat and her heart began hammering against her ribs.

"Borr's Ghost," Sif breathed, her gaze flitting over Jane's face. "You _are_. You are in _love_ with _Loki_." She smiled slowly, then let out a laugh. "I have finally lived long enough to have seen everything."

Jane's breathing sped up, and her eyes darted around without seeing anything. She pressed her hand to her chest—her fingers landed on the Lokistone.

All at once, she wanted to cry or laugh or scream or let her chest burst open as it felt like it was going to. But she couldn't move. Her eyes flew to Sif's.

"What…" she rasped. "What am I going to do?"

Sif's eyebrows went up.

"You're asking _me?"_

"Yes!" Jane cried, heart racing. "I…I can't _find_ him! I don't know where he is, I'll get lost in this palace trying to look for him, and he doesn't come anywhere near me. For all I know, he hates me and never wants to—"

"What about that helmet?"

Jane started.

"The helmet?"

"Yes, the blood-stained helmet everyone is talking about," Sif reminded her. "The one that sits in your room. Loki's helmet that he left with you."

"Well, Odin—Odin said that Loki would come and get it from me when he wanted it," Jane managed, her head in a whirl. Sif's brow knitted.

"Has he ever had an opportunity?"

Jane nodded hard.

"Yes, he…Last night, when I came into my room, there was a flower by the helmet."

"A flower?" Sif repeated, confused. "How do you know he was the one who left it?"

"It was him," Jane said, squeezing her eyes shut. "I think he overheard me talking about the meanings of flowers with Thor yesterday." Jane took a shaking breath. "This one meant 'I shall die tomorrow.'"

For a long while, Sif said nothing. Then, she leaned in, and spoke in a low voice.

"Jane, don't be a fool," she said. "He loves you."

Jane lifted her face. Sif stared right back at her.

"Don't you _dare_ let this chance get away from you," Sif commanded. "Loki has never been a favorite of mine—but if you love him and he loves you…then the rest is details." Sif reached out and took hold of Jane's hand, speaking with dark intensity. "You cannot fathom how quickly this could all slip away from you—leaving you with an eternity of regret." She squeezed Jane's hand hard. "Marry him. _Tomorrow_."

Jane gulped. Then, she twisted her wrist and grabbed hold of Sif's hand.

"What about the helmet?"

Sif canted her head.

"Have you ever thought that maybe he was waiting for _you _to return it to _him?"_

"But I _don't know where he is_," Jane repeated. Sif grinned. It lit up her face.

"Don't worry on that account," she said. "I have spies everywhere. And this evening, when they find him, I'll send you a note telling you where he is so you can go to him." Sif secured her grip on Jane's hand and stood up, pulling Jane with her. "In the meantime, there is a hot bath, scented oils, food, and _rest _in your immediate future—and then I will show you what to do with that dirty helmet."

"Sif," Jane swiped at her eyes as Sif pulled her toward the huge spa room. "I promise I'll repay you for this."

"Oh!" Sif laughed. "I am counting on it."

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	26. Chapter 26

_Instead of answering reviews this time (as I love to do) I decided to post the next chapter earlier than I planned. Hope you don't mind. ;)_

_Enjoy!_

VVVVV

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

"_When did respect first become affection?  
When did affection suddenly soar?  
What a strange and beautiful touch_

_That I love him so much  
When I didn't before..._

_When did I fall in love?_  
_What night? Which day?_  
_When did I first begin to feel this way?_  
_How could the moment pass?_  
_Unfelt? Ignored?_  
_Where was the blinding flash?_  
_Where was the crashing chord?_  
_When did I fall in love?_  
_I can't recall,_  
_Not that it matters at all._  
_It doesn't matter when or why or how_  
_As long as I love him now."_

-Barbara Cook

The helmet gleamed in the light of the sunset. Jane sat cross-legged in front of it on the white tile of the balcony, her cleaning tools all around her. To her right, a bowl of clear water and a rag. To her left, a towel, and then a jar of armor polish—courtesy of Sif—and another rag to buff it off.

She felt calm now. Her heart had relaxed and stopped racing, her hands didn't shake, and she felt rested and clean.

She had a plan. True, it was the most terrifying plan she'd ever set in front of herself. But it was a _plan_. And that made all the difference in the world.

Taking a breath, Jane dipped the first rag in the water, wrung it out, put her hand on the head of the helmet and began to scrub.

The week-old bloodstains did not want to come off. She rubbed and rubbed, rinsing the rag out and coming back again, until the stains finally gave way to reveal shining metal. She turned the helmet every which way—it was very light to move—searching for every last brown fingerprint, until she had washed them all away. Then, she bathed the whole helmet for good measure—and as she did, she realized that the whole thing was covered with layers of dirt. Some of the dirt had a reddish tint—and she knew it had to be desert soil from New Mexico. Others seemed to be dark handprints, doubtlessly from where Dr. Doom's men had handled it. Jane gritted her teeth as she worked—some of the grime was so stubborn!—while the sun slowly descended, and the sky turned to gold.

Whilst cleaning the back crown of the helmet, her hands paused a moment, and she frowned. Her thumb had run across a linear dent—rather shallow—but it interrupted the flawless surface. For a moment, she rested her fingertips on it. How hard must he have gotten hit, for this Asgardian armor to dent even that much? And why had he not had it repaired?

Then, she slowly smiled. Imperfection was good. It proved he had _used _this helmet, been struck, and survived. She continued working.

Finally satisfied, Jane dried the helmet off, then began rubbing it with the armor polish. The polish dried to a hazy film, and then she buffed it off—

To reveal the most splendid, multi-layered-looking metal sheen. The metal hummed and sang beneath her swift rag. She worked and worked, polishing every surface, until she was finished…

And as she turned it back and forth in the fading light, she could swear that from one angle it looked gold, from another it looked silver, and from another it almost looked green.

She glanced up. The stars were coming out—and a full moon peeked over the horizon, filling the gardens with silver light.

_Knock, knock, knock_.

Jane turned to the door. Taking a breath, she got to her feet, strode across her carpet and opened the door.

A bright-eyed pageboy with a small, mischievous smile on his face stood there, holding out a folded, sealed piece of paper.

"This comes from Lady Sif, madam," the boy said. "She said it was most urgent."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Jane said, taking it from him. The boy suddenly blushed, and ducked away down the hall. Jane shut the door, turned the letter over and broke the seal, then quickly unfolded and read.

_Your alskling is in his garden, seated on the black rock in the center. _

_ Move quickly. It is doubtful that he knows that you are not engaged, _

_for none of the courtiers are aware of recent events, and your prince _

_has not been seen or heard all of today._

_ Best of luck_

_ S._

Jane's heart _did _hammer once at reading those words. But she set her jaw, put the letter on her vanity, went back out to the balcony and took up the helmet. Then, on bare, silent feet, she slipped out into the hallway, and headed for the gardens.

LLLLLLLLLL

The night wind whispered through the roses in a way that almost sounded like words. Jane kept her strides even as she held the helmet out in front of her, its face toward her. Her hair and skirts ruffled in the breeze, and she kept her eyes focused on the winding path in front of her. Moonlight spilled down through the gardens, lighting everything with a silvery-blue glow, and creating deep, soft shadows in the corners and beneath the ferns and trees.

At last, she came to the place in the rose garden where she had left the main path—she caught sight of the low wooden door, nearly hidden by the ivy. She hesitated, braced herself, and stepped toward it.

It hung open a few inches. She reached out with one hand and pulled on the cold metal handle. It came toward her easily. She hesitated again, then stepped through.

She saw him.

In the center of the garden, seated on the rock, was the figure she'd imagined more than a million times during this past week, but had never seen. He wore black, so that he almost blended in with the darkness, but the moonlight caught his pale face and hands, and the highlights of his ebony hair. He sat toward her, but he was not looking. He was gazing upward, his brow tight, back at the palace.

At the soft glow of her window, where she had left a lamp burning.

She took three more steps.

He turned.

He saw her.

She stopped.

Neither of them moved.

Then, his hands closed to fists, and he turned his head down and away.

Jane, her heart pounding, stayed where she was for a long time. Then, clamping her jaw, she closed the distance. Her feet met the cool, smooth paving stones of the little plaza, until she stood right in front of him. She could barely see the glint of his eyes beneath his long, dark lashes. His brow was knotted, his shoulders tense as if wounded.

Jane glanced down at the helmet in her hands. Then, slowly, she held it out to him.

His gaze flicked up to it. He cleared his throat.

And he reached up and took it from her, and pulled it into his lap. He ran his hand across the crown of it. It rang softly beneath his touch.

Then, he looked up at her.

Her breath caught.

Every feature sharpened yet softened in the moonlight—as if she was seeing him clearly for the first time in her life. His green eyes—emerald and jade and hazel and black—limitless and penetrating and utterly open. His raven eyebrows, drawn together, the right slightly lifted in an eloquent expression of earnest pain. His noble cheekbones and nose and chin, angular and so different from anyone else in Asgard. His quiet mouth, set and silent. And black locks of hair that had strayed, and fallen across his white brow.

Loki.

The name quietly resounded through her—and she absently wondered when she had stopped thinking of him as Fenris. Because he was not Fenris, anymore. And yet—he _was_.

Loki. Loki Odinson.

Her heart quieted.

But then a pang traveled through her injury. She almost winced, but managed to only reach up with her left hand and press it to her stomach.

His eyes flew to her midsection, and remained. Her pain faded.

Loki lifted his right hand. Jane held her breath.

Carefully, he stretched it out, and touched the backs of his fingers to her hand. He swallowed hard. Then, he pulled back.

She let go of her old wound and caught his hand.

He jerked, and his eyes locked with hers again. She squeezed his fingers. They felt cold.

She took a step closer to him, so their knees were almost touching. Keeping hold of his right hand, she held out her own, and, hesitatingly, ran her thumb across the bridge of his nose, smoothed the tension lines on his warm forehead, and traced his eyebrow. She felt him draw in a deep breath, but he watched her face.

Then, she leaned down toward him, never looking away from his eyes, until their faces were inches apart.

And she took a deep breath, closed the distance, and pressed her lips to his.

He stopped breathing.

She held him there, motionless, for a long moment. Then, she withdrew, just slightly. Their lips came apart. She tilted her head the other way—their noses brushed—and she again closed her lips over his.

This time, he moved in answer, just minutely. His mouth felt soft, inexperienced. She released him, pulled back a handbreadth, and opened her eyes.

His eyes were already open—they had been. They locked with hers.

She straightened.

And slowly, he put the helmet down and got to his feet.

He towered over her. She never realized until that moment how majestic he was—how imposing and breathtaking—her heart nearly stopped, then began thundering against her ribs. She opened her mouth and took a breath to say something—anything—

He took her face in his hands, swooped down, and his mouth collided with hers.

Fire erupted in her chest.

Their mouths broke apart, but before she could take a breath, he had turned his head and kissed her again—harder, fiercer. Over and over, at a dizzying pace, Loki kissed her, breaking away to press in again and again, sliding his hands down her neck, her shoulders, and then winding his arms around her waist with lion-like strength.

Each time he pulled back, he returned to catch her mouth in a new, frantic, desperate and electrifying way that obliterated Jane's thoughts—she clung to his shoulders as her sense of balance spun.

Then, his breath turned to ice—and chilled air from his mouth raced down her throat. His hands went cold against her, and he crushed her to him as his kisses became even more rapid, desperate—panicked. As if, at any moment, she was about to be torn out of his arms.

He pulled her in even tighter, so she could not breathe—she could taste his fear.

And so, she moved her shaking hands to his face—his cold face—and began stroking his cheeks, even as his hurried, gasping kisses threatened to drown her. She caressed his skin, gentle and firm and steady.

And as she did, she felt his arms relax around her, and his mouth lost some of its urgency.

Then, as his shoulders eased and gave way to her, Jane wrapped her arms tight around his neck, and at the same time, he lifted her off the ground. She shifted her right arm around even further, and took a soft handful of the thick, silken hair atop his head. And when he tried to pull back again, she did not let him. She leaned her lips into his, and felt him take a deep, sharp breath.

For a long moment, there they hung, locked in each other's embrace.

And then, as one, their lips came apart, then gently met again. And again. Softly, he set her down, and she held his head in her hands as their mouths moved in concert—

And tears mingled on their tongues.

Now, she could kiss _him_. And he let himself be kissed, and answered her sweetly, perfectly, lingering on her lips, yearning toward her without distress. His arms held her without binding her—gentle and strong. And his left hand came up, tracing her arm and shoulder, and cradled her neck.

And his fingers were warm. And his lips and face were warm, and soft, and he smelled like earth and night wind, and frost, and smoldering oak.

At last, they straightened, their mouths reluctantly parted, and they drew in deep, fresh breaths. And Loki rested his hands on either side of her face, very softly, and leaned his forehead down against hers. She reached up and curled her fingers through his collar.

And with a great sigh, the tension melted from his frame. He swallowed, and absently stroked his thumb against her cheekbone.

His tears fell. She felt them drip onto her bare arm. So she brought her hands up and wiped them from his face, collecting them on her fingertips.

He backed up, just a few inches, and looked down at her, his eyes brilliant with moonlit tears.

And then, a slow, beaming smile spread across his face, lighting up his entire bearing and sparkling through his gaze. More tears tumbled, and Jane quickly dashed them away—and she lightly laughed. He echoed it, grasping her hands in both of his and pressing them against his heart.

A silvery bell rang—up in a pavilion in the palace. It rang three times.

The pair turned, glancing toward the sound. Jane knew what it was—it was the signal for dinner. Asgardians always ate right before going straight to sleep—and she had told Sif that, regardless of what happened, she would be there.

She glanced up at Loki, smiled at him, then took hold of his hand and pulled him toward the soft glow of the palace.

"Jane?" he called.

Her soul sang like the string of a harp. She stopped, and faced him.

His fingers curled around hers. His eyes watched her.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"Will you stay here?" he asked quietly. "With me?"

"Yes, Loki," she nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. As if she had already had ages to think about it. As if he had already asked her a thousand times.

For a long moment, he said nothing, and did not move. Then, he drew her hand toward his face, turned it over, and pressed a fervent kiss to her palm. And when his twinkling eyes met hers, she had to swipe away her own tears.

He stepped toward her, and, still holding her gaze, tucked her arm securely around his. Jane leaned her head against his soft shoulder, the two of them ducked through the door of the whispering garden, and started back up the path toward the great hall.

"Perhaps I had a wicked childhood

Perhaps I had a miserable youth

But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past

There must have been a moment of truth.

For here you are, standing there, loving me

Whether or not you should.

So somewhere in my youth, or childhood

I must have done something good."

-Oscar Hammerstein

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review! You know you want to! ;)_


	27. Chapter 27

_Oh, my dear friends, who have made writing this such a joy and a delight—this is the last chapter. I have truly cherished bringing a story to all of you that caused you to smile and enjoy yourselves. I treasure all of your valuable words of encouragement. This chapter is particularly dedicated to those who picked this story up from the first chapter and stayed with it until the end. Thank you so much._

_During this section, I listened to "Jurassic Park Theme (Long Version)". Trust me—it's gorgeous. You may have to turn it up a little in the beginning, as it's kind of soft. _

_Enjoy._

_VVVVVVV_

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

"_When brothers agree, _

_No fortress is so strong as their common life."_

_~Antisthenes_

Loki stepped out onto the vast balcony that adjoined the great feasting hall. Night wind rustled his long green cape, and moonlight glinted against his breastplate. He took a deep breath and approached the railing, gazing out over the twinkling windows of Asgard, and beyond that, at the sweeping sea, the glowing, winking stars and planets high above—

And the soft white light that sat on the edge of the water.

Sighing, he reached up and pulled off his helmet, and held it in front of him for a moment, studying its lines and figure, and the way it gleamed anew. Then, he set it down on the stone railing.

"You're taking that off already?"

Loki turned to see Thor, dressed in his shining silver-and-scarlet finest—minus his helmet—stride out of the glow of the feasting hall and up next to him. Loki reached up and ran a hand through his black hair and winced.

"It scrambles my brains," he confessed.

"Yes, but it looks so _splendid_ on you," Thor folded his arms and grinned.

"Better than yours looks on you," Loki muttered.

"Ha! Shut up."

For a moment, the two of them stood in companionable silence, gazing out at the horizon.

"So…" Thor took a breath. "You are married." He shook his head. "Too strange."

Loki's brow furrowed as he glanced at him. Thor's lion-like face betrayed nothing but thoughtful amusement.

"Strange?" Loki repeated. "Why?"

"Because I am the eldest!" Thor burst out, gesturing to himself. "I should be getting married first, not you."

"Actually, neither of us knows who is older," Loki pointed out.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Thor held out his hands. "Everyone knows I am more mature."

Loki snorted and pressed a hand to his side.

"Don't make me laugh—it hurts my ribs."

"How long are you going to keep complaining about that?" Thor asked indignantly.

"Oh, at least for another couple centuries," Loki assured him.

"See? Proof." Thor pointed at him. "You are _clearly_ the baby."

Loki did laugh now, and it did _not_ hurt—and Thor's deep, rumbling chuckle joined in. For a while longer, neither of them spoke, and their gazes were drawn upward, past the horizon, to the vast heavens above. Fondly, Loki traced the constellations he had known since birth, naming them each silently—marveling at how they seemed a little strange to him now, since he had spent so many nights gazing up at the constellations above Midgard.

"There was a time, when you were gone," Thor said quietly—and Loki instantly sensed the change in his mood. Loki glanced downward, listening, but not turning toward his brother.

"There was a time when we thought you were lost," Thor said. "We doubted that you had been _killed_—but of course we were not sure—and yet, we daily considered the idea that we may never see you again."

Loki did not move. Thor took a breath.

"So I feel I ought to tell you how unhappy I was during those days," Thor stated. "And how _happy_ I was today, watching my brother get married in the throne room of Asgard."

Loki finally turned his eyes to his brother—who was smiling at him with soft sincerity. Gradually, Loki answered the smile, then reached out and grabbed his brother by the elbow, squeezed it once, then let go.

"I also wanted to tell you," Thor went on. "That Father and I—wait, did he have a chance to tell you about our discussion this morning?"

Loki gave him a look.

"I've been a little busy."

"Right," Thor nodded. He took a deep breath. "Well, Father believes I am soon to be king. He is getting tired, and he thinks I am ready. Well, more ready than I was before. And I told him…" Thor cleared his throat, then turned to Loki. "I want an advisor. I want an advisor whose heart I can trust as well as his brain—to give me the council I need to rule as justly as I can." Thor paused. "Would you consider it?"

Loki studied him a long time, then raised his eyebrow.

"Thor," he said slowly. "I have been trying to do that all your life."

"Then here is my promise to _listen _to you from now on," Thor laughed, extending his hand. He lifted his eyebrows. "Rule beside me, brother? Asgard shan't be safe otherwise."

Loki searched his brother's face. And he could sense—without any doubt—that while Thor spoke with levity, he meant it.

And so Loki took his brother's hand.

Thor grinned, and slapped Loki on the shoulder.

Again, they returned to silence, but this time Loki turned and leaned his elbow on the railing, facing Thor. Thor did the same, mirroring him.

"Something troubling you?" Thor asked.

"Well, if I may…" Loki said, glancing down. "I'd like to exercise the privilege you just gave me."

"Go ahead," Thor said, eyes on him.

"What do you plan to do with the tesseract?" Loki asked, keenly watching the other man.

Thor glanced out over the water.

"Father is hesitant to let anyone use it—he does not even want to touch it himself."

"What do you think?" Loki asked. Thor met his eyes.

"That is what I wanted to ask _you_."

Again, Loki's eyes were drawn to the silvery light out on the water.

"There was a time when I would have said that there is no urgency—that we ought to take time to study the tesseract before attempting to rebuild the Bifrost." Loki took a breath. "But now…Now I worry for Midgard."

"Became a little attached?" Thor teased. Loki almost smiled.

"I became _aware_," he said. "Midgard has changed. They're not just throwing sticks and stones at each other anymore. Their technology has advanced enough that we ought to pay attention."

"Yes, what are those machines they get inside and drive around?" Thor asked.

Loki glanced at him.

"Cars?"

"_Yes_." Thor pointed at him seriously. "Those are dangerous."

Loki grinned crookedly.

"They are indeed."

Loki fell silent for a moment, and his eyes unfocused as he gazed far away.

"You should have seen him, Thor. This Midgardian who fought me. He had the tesseract. He _had _it. And though he was not as clever as I am, he was just as strong." He arched an eyebrow. "And heartless. He would have killed Jane without a thought." Loki took a tight breath. "And…I am not certain he is dead."

Thor was listening intently now, and Loki finally turned toward him again.

"But even if he is—he cannot be the only one. In fact, I am certain he is not."

Thor's brow furrowed.

"How do you know?"

"I spoke to a clan called SHIELD, and their leaders Nick Fury and Coulson—"

"Ah, Son of Coul!" Thor cut in. "Yes, I know him."

"He said you did," Loki acknowledged. "And he also said that he and their number have been fighting numerous threats all over the realm."

"I don't know this Nick Fury," Thor said. Loki shrugged.

"He is an abrasive, straightforward fellow," he said. "I am not too fond of him, nor of the others he keeps company with." Loki straightened and snapped his fingers. "Oh, but there is one man I want you to meet. I think you two would catch on like a house fire."

"Who?" Thor wondered. Loki gave him a look out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

"His name is Tony Stark. He is a genius."

"You mean for a Midgardian," Thor assumed. Loki shook his head.

"No. I mean for anyone."

Thor looked confused.

"Then what in the realms do you think I would have in common with _him?"_

"Oh, I forgot to mention he has a suit," Loki said lightly. "A metal suit that is nearly indestructible, possesses cannons that can level buildings, and can carry him through the sky at a speed faster than sound." Loki flashed his eyebrows at his brother, halfway smiling. "He says he doesn't believe you could catch him."

Thor stared at him a moment.

Then, he swiftly turned toward the sea.

"That's it—we are going to Midgard."

Loki laughed and rolled his eyes, knowing his brother's heart. His knowledge was confirmed when Thor sighed.

"I did promise to be their ally," he said. "And they behaved as if they needed one. Besides which, we owe them a debt. We both came crashing down on them, powerless and injured, and they saved us."

"Jane saved us," Loki corrected, gazing downward, then lifting his eyes to his brother's. Thor looked back at him, then nodded once.

"Yes," he said. "Jane saved us."

The two of them quieted. The light on the water again called Loki's attention, and he studied it as it flickered against the distant sea.

"Boys?" a woman's voice called.

Their heads came around as their mother stepped out toward them from the feasting hall. She smiled at them, and beckoned.

"Come inside!" she urged. "The musicians are getting set, and the ladies are coming in."

"Ah, and now you get to _dance_," Thor taunted, throwing an arm around Loki's shoulders as the two strode back toward the golden hall.

"So do you," Loki shot back.

"I refuse," Thor said. "I'll not dance a single step. Never. No."

Loki just grinned, and stayed silent.

Together, the two of them followed their mother back into the light and sound of the feasting hall—which had been cleared of its tables to open up the vast floor. Lit lamps hung throughout the room at various heights, filling the space with soft, rich golden light. Courtiers—mostly men—milled around the edges of the room, and out in the wide hallway past the open double doors. Odin sat in a throne at the far end beside a smaller throne meant for his queen, and Fandral, Hogun and Volstaag laughed with him.

"Ah," Frigg said, clasping her hands and facing the open doors. "I believe they're coming down now."

"I don't understand why all the women had to take time to change clothes," Thor grumbled, taking his arm down from Loki's shoulders. Frigg gave him a look.

"It's because the gowns they wore to the wedding are much too long for dancing."

Thor rolled his eyes. Loki fought to keep stifling his smirk.

"Go find your wife," Thor pushed lightly on Loki's back. "I'm going to sit with Father."

Frigg watched him go, and sighed. But then she caught the look on Loki's face, and her eyes narrowed.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, and strode past her. As he walked, he reached up and dusted the armor off his arms and shoulders—with a soft jingling, it unconjured, and he was left with his softer, finest deep-green dress clothes. He strode through the doors into a vast entryway of dark wood and black stone, and paused at the foot of a grand, sweeping bronze-and-marble staircase.

The ladies of the court, like flower petals drifting down through the air, gracefully descended the stairs, laughing together, amiably joining hands, and sparkling like jewels. Loki's gaze flitted over them, searching their faces. And then he was caught by a figure at the very top—and everything in his being suspended.

She paused a moment, as if frozen in time—a painting on a wall. She wore a flowing ivory dress that wrapped around her graceful form and left her lovely arms bare. Half of her hair had been done up to twist around a small, glittering diadem filled with emeralds, and the rest of her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Around her neck hung a silver chain, and upon her pale breastbone rested the shimmering Lokistone in her grandmother's setting. Her face was flushed prettily, her features as flawless as the first time he saw her, her brown eyes brilliant and her skin radiant with the after-effects of eating one of the life-giving Golden Apples of Idunn during the wedding ceremony. Her long-lashed eyes glanced around the entryway, and then settled upon Loki.

A shaft went straight through his heart.

Her lovely mouth formed a beaming smile, and she swiftly stepped down the stairs.

"I hope I didn't take too long," she said as she hopped down the last step. "I wasn't sure where—"

Loki took hold of her shoulders and pressed his lips to hers three times, leaning in deeper each time and bringing his hands up to caress her face.

Jane put her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back, and when their mouths came apart and his eyes could focus again, he saw she was blushing, though her bashful eyes sparkled up at him.

"What was that all about?" she wanted to know. He raised his eyebrows.

"You cannot expect me to be able to restrain myself when you come out looking like this," he said.

"Well, you have to," she teased, tilting her face up toward his. "There are other people here, you know."

"Where?" he said wolfishly, and kissed her intensely again, so he felt her swoon, and he had to slide his arm around her waist as she weakened. She broke the kiss and pulled back, blinking.

"That is not fair," she gasped. He grinned wickedly.

"Loki!" Frigg called. Loki sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Mother calls," he muttered. Jane straightened, her gaze sharpening again. Her brow furrowed.

"Have you seen Sif?" she asked, glancing up at him, then into the hall. "Has she come down yet? I'm anxious to see if your spell worked."

"Sif?" Loki looked at her blankly. "Sif who? All I remember is you walking down those stairs. Did something happen before that?"

She canted her head at him and gave him a saucy smile.

"I hope you'll be this sweet a hundred years from now."

"I'm not being sweet," he said. "I'm being sincere."

She looked up at him and met his eyes, and for a moment neither spoke. Then, she reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from his brow—and both smiled.

"Shall we?" he said, turning and offering her his arm. Her smile broadened, and she took it. Then, together, they strode into the hall.

Loud cheering greeted them, and both ducked their heads, though they exchanged warm glances with their friends and family.

And the moment their feet touched the dance floor, the musicians struck up a lively, swaying tune. Loki turned Jane toward him, and she inclined her head to him. He did the same, though his heart began to pound.

"All right," Loki took a deep breath. "Just as we practiced this afternoon."

"Right," Jane nodded—and they stepped toward each other. He slid his arm around her slender waist, she slipped her delicate hand into his, and immediately they began to step in time with the music. He whirled her around once, twice, three times, until the colorful room was all a blur. He could feel the others watching them, intrigued and eager to join in once they had fathomed the rhythm and steps.

"This is quite a dance," Loki commented. "It makes me dizzy. Did you invent it?"

"Ha, no," Jane laughed, shaking her head, then gazing up at him. "It's a waltz—it's been around on Midgard for a couple hundred years." Her aspect quieted. "My parents danced it at their wedding."

Loki felt her frame soften in his arms, and his brows came together as she glanced away.

"I'm so sorry they could not be here," he murmured. She glanced up at him—her eyes sparkled with tears.

"Me, too," she nodded, then she pressed her forehead to his chest and took a deep, shaky breath of him. He wrapped his arm tighter around her and leaned his head down against hers.

But within moments, she lifted her face, leaned up and kissed him on the throat, where his pulse beat. And when he looked down at her again, her eyes were bright and she beamed at him.

"They would have liked you very much."

Loki's heart suddenly swelled to bursting, and he almost stopped dancing altogether—his eyes could see nothing but her. She gazed warmly back at him for a long moment, then something caught her attention past him.

"Oh," she blinked, then her smile changed. "It looks like our evil plan has begun."

Loki and Jane kept dancing, but Loki risked a subtle glance over his shoulder to where Jane looked—

To see Sif walk in.

She wore a deep blue, floor-length, form-fitting gown, and a choker of diamonds. Light blue, sparkling hues of makeup surrounded her dark, vibrant eyes. But it was something else about Sif—something else that made Loki smirk in satisfaction.

Her hair.

Her midnight hair tumbled loose—not braided or twisted in any fashion. And within each river-like tress, there glittered hundreds of little, pinpoints of light. Lights that twinkled softly, moving as she moved, some dimming down to nothing, others flashing like jewels caught in the light. It was a spell—a temporary spell of Loki's making—and it made Sif look like a goddess of the night sky.

The men nearest her stopped whatever they were doing or saying, and stared at her. Loki could tell by their stunned faces that they _thought _they recognized her, but they did not believe their eyes.

"You outdid yourself," Jane whispered to him as Sif paused near the doorway and glanced around.

"Yes, but has _he _noticed?" Loki murmured back—and gracefully kept time with the music, whirled around and glanced at Thor…

Who was talking and gesturing animatedly with Odin.

"Oh, for crying out…" Jane exclaimed through her teeth. She looked up and raised her eyebrows at Loki. "We'll just have to go through with it, then," she sighed.

"I am afraid you're right," Loki replied. He twirled Jane out—her skirt flared like a lily in full bloom—and then he pulled her back in, spun with her twice, and they gracefully halted in front of Odin, Frigg and Thor's chairs. Those three glanced up, as did Fandral, Hogun and Volstaag who stood nearby. Loki turned to Odin.

"Father," he said, inclining his head. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with my bride?"

Odin, resplendent in gold, gave Loki a knowing look, and raised himself to his feet.

"I will," he agreed, bowing to Jane. "If she will do me the honor of teaching me how."

Jane smiled brilliantly at him and curtseyed, then offered him her hand. He took it, and stepped out onto the floor with her.

"If you would, All-Father, place your hand on my waist here," Jane instructed. "Then take my hand and I'll put my other hand on your shoulder…"

Loki backed away from them, watching in pleasure. And then he noticed the other male members of the court asking their ladies to dance, and leading them out beside the All-Father and Jane. Loki turned and glanced back toward the double doors. Sif stood alone where she was—gorgeous, but apparently still terrifying. Loki suppressed a smile, stepped nimbly through the swaying crowd, and straight up to her. He bowed at the waist, then straightened and gazed at her.

"May I say, Lady Sif, that you look absolutely stunning," he said.

She blushed, and looked away, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You're the only man who has noticed—and you don't count anymore," she muttered. Loki still tried not to smile and glanced around.

"Oh, I am not the only one, I assure you," he promised. He held out his hand to her. "Care to dance with an old, married man?"

Sif's eyes flew to his. And Loki finally allowed himself to smile—and he winked at her.

Her cheeks flamed and her eyes went wide.

"Jane…Jane said she had a plan," she stammered. "That if you arranged for…then I must…"

"Come, Sif," he said quietly, his hand still extended. "You look too beautiful to be standing in this corner."

She hesitated for a long time, staring at his hand, then into his eyes. Finally, she reached out and grasped his fingers. Her hands were like ice. He pulled her toward him, toward the other dancers, then firmly drew her close and eased her into the music.

As they spun, her hair glittered and twinkled, casting a glow around her head and shoulders that looked like moonlight. Loki couldn't keep the smile from his face—though he did manage to keep it subtle.

"What are you grinning at?" Sif asked, preoccupied with the steps.

"My handiwork," he replied. "I cannot believe how utterly lovely I've made you look."

"Oh, you are taking all the credit?" she shot him a glare. His smile broadened. He spun her, and glanced over his shoulder…

To watch as Odin, right on cue, declared he was tired, and ordered Thor to take over dancing with Jane. Loki slowed their steps as he observed his family through the motion of several other dancers. And he smiled wickedly again.

Jane performed beautifully—she gave Thor her most charming smile, and tilted her head in the most demure, enchanting way—Thor could hardly refuse. So he stood up and, towering over her, began to dance with her. Loki watched as Jane taught him, and Thor—a natural athlete—caught on quickly, and was soon leading her through the steps.

Sif's hand tightened on his. Loki turned to her. She looked pale, and was gazing across the way at Thor and Jane.

"Loki…I am not sure about this…"

"Sif," Loki said. "Concentrate on learning the dance, first. You don't want to be distracted later by worrying about stumbling."

He spun her again, away from the other pair, and gazed fixedly at her, commanding her attention. Finally, she gave it to him, and the two danced quite flawlessly for several minutes. Loki heard Thor laugh—it rang through the room. Loki glanced over—and saw Jane lean around Thor and give Loki a quick, conspiratorial glance.

"It's time," Loki decided.

Sif really clamped down on him now.

"Loki," she gasped, her brow twisting as her eyes closed. "I don't…I can't…"

"Sif," Loki said, stopping their dancing and touching her chin with his forefinger. "Look at me."

She forced her eyes open, and stared back at him.

"Jane told me something you said—something very wise," Loki murmured. "'You cannot fathom how quickly this could all slip away from you—leaving you with an eternity of regret.'"

She stopped breathing. He gave her a pointed look.

"You can do this," he said. "You are the bravest lady I know."

She swallowed hard, almost said something, then gave him a little smile. He nodded at her.

"Come." He took her hand, squeezed it, and led her straight over to where Jane and Thor were dancing.

"Brother," Loki said, slapping his hand down on Thor's shoulder. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have my wife back."

"Ha! I suppose you do have a claim on her, now," Thor chuckled, turning to face him. "Though I…"

Thor's whole expression changed in an instant. His eyes fell upon Sif, and he stopped moving.

"Also," Loki went on, as if nothing had happened. "I wish that you'd see to it that Lady Sif is comfortable for the rest of the evening. She's helped Jane so much—putting this wedding together in a single day was no easy task. She deserves to enjoy herself." Loki pulled Sif up to stand before his older brother. Thor still had not looked away from her face, and Sif gazed just as steadily back at him.

"Of course," Thor managed. He cleared his throat. "Um…Of course I will. Shall…Shall we?"

Sif only nodded. Loki stepped back, feeling Jane slide her hand into his and ease closer to him. Awkwardly, Thor reached out and put his hand around Sif's waist, and she held her right hand up for him to take—which he did. And then, slowly, stiffly, they began to dance.

Loki backed up, pulling Jane with him, toward the balcony. As they slipped away, subtle as shadows, Jane covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Ssshhh," Loki warned, though he was trying not to laugh himself. They stopped by a pillar, half in moonlight half in torchlight, and Loki leaned back against it, drawing Jane in so that she lay against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, she circled his waist with hers and rested his head on his chest, and the two of them turned their heads to keep watching the swirling dancers—fixing their attention on Thor and Sif.

They were gazing at each other. At first, Sif often glanced away, but eventually looked back up at him. Thor never looked away from her, and his expression was most serious. Loki felt Jane's arms tighten around him.

"Come on, Sif…" she whispered.

Thor and Sif slowed down, their eyes locked. Everyone danced all around them. Loki held his breath. Sif and Thor stopped, and just stood. Jane's fingers curled through the back of Loki's shirt.

Sif ducked her head. She turned her head away. She pulled back—she stepped away from Thor.

"No," Jane gasped.

Thor caught Sif's hand. He said her name. She turned back to him.

And Thor stepped in, took her by the waist, and kissed her.

He bent her back, enveloping her in his arms.

Jane yelped, and pulled one arm loose of Loki to clap a hand over her mouth.

The whole court stopped and stared.

Sif encircled Thor's neck with her arms and leaned her mouth into his. They gradually straightened, their kiss deepening, intensifying, and Thor laced his fingers through her long, ebony hair.

"I think I'm blushing," Loki muttered. "Should we be watching this?"

Jane flicked his chest and he chuckled.

Thor set Sif back on her feet. Their lips parted. They stared at each other, flushed.

Then, the whole court erupted in cheering. Loki and Jane laughed out loud.

"That was too easy!" Jane cried.

"Oh, I doubt it," Loki shook his head, readjusting his soft grip on her. "I'm sure there will be a few more mishaps and misunderstandings before we hear wedding bells again. Those two are infinitely fun to play with—you will see."

"I'm sure I will."

Loki glanced down at Jane—and then paused. Her face was tilted up toward his, and her eyes and face bathed by both the glow of the room and the shimmer of the moonlight. The smile faded from Loki's face.

She shifted, scooting up so that he bore more of her weight, and her face was closer to his. He leaned down toward her.

"I have an idea," she said, glancing down at the embroidery on his shirt. "We ought to start a tradition."

"What kind of tradition?" Loki asked. She lifted her eyes to his.

"Every day—and I mean _every _day—we need to come up with some way to say 'I love you,' to each other," she suggested. "People can forget that, you know."

"They can?" Loki murmured, barely breathing. Jane shrugged and nodded.

"Besides, it's nice to hear it," she said. "You go first."

"I have to come up with a way to say it?" Loki asked.

"Whatever way you want," Jane said, tilting her head. "But don't think too long—I'm waiting."

"Then I'll settle for this," Loki said—and looked her straight in the eyes. He brought his left hand up, and pressed it gently to her cheek, and stroked his thumb from the side of her nose across her cheekbone. "Until the stars fall down on Asgard," he whispered. "I will love you, Jane Foster."

Her eyes flickered—then filled with tears.

"How was that?" Loki asked, searching her features.

She desperately pulled her arms loose from his waist, wrapped them tight around his neck, closed the distance between their faces and pressed her lips against his. White hot flame shot right through the center of his soul. He enfolded her in his arms and answered her, savoring her mouth as passionately and gently as she tasted his.

The music and dancing and laughter, and the glow of the hall surrounded them—and out above them, the night sky over Asgard twinkled and winked, as the second son of Odin and his bride exchanged sweet kisses, the warm Lokistone pressed between their hearts.

"The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved—

Loved for ourselves,

Or rather,

Loved in spite of ourselves."

~Victor Hugo

FIN

_Review, dear hearts! And have a listen to the Gladiator Soundtrack "Now We Are Free" while you dry your tears, haha—I did! Remember to check out the trailer on youtube by typing in "Fallen Star Loki," and the SEQUEL to this story can be found on my profile, entitled "Brother Avengers." _

_Also, I've built a little Loki/Jane website called Stolen Relic. You'll find it at http:/ stolenrelic dot wordpress dot com There you'll find fan art, links to Lokane videos, and a DELETED SCENE FROM "FALLEN STAR," plus a lot more! Hope to see you over there!_


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